Silver Words
by EchoFallsFromGrace
Summary: Foxxay Hunger Games AU. Three parts.
1. Chapter 1

**This will be in three parts.**

**Rated M **

**Headcanoned and beta-ed by Grace**

Myrtle Snow's grasp on her wrist was tight, but she barely felt it, numb as she was. Her blood was running cold and she wasn't sure that she was breathing, though maybe she didn't want to. The crowd in front of her was hushed, and she could almost hear their one, solitary thought. _A week away from her nineteenth birthday_. She let her blue-green eyes rake over her District, the forests standing tall a hundred meters away, and she let out a tight gasp.

The redhead beside her pulled on her arm again, and she turned away, mouth open in utter disbelief as a small round of applause was tugged out of the District's citizens by the Peacekeepers on the outskirts of the gated clearing, their guns held up and back. Myrtle was talking to her, but her ears were far from functioning, her gaze blurred over as she was lead into the Justice Building by incessant tugs.

She was seated into a leather armchair, the fabric beneath her fingers nicer than anything she'd ever felt, the carpet under her feet of such quality that it only brought more tears to her eyes. She began gasping in and out, knowing the boy across from her kept his dark eyes trained on her, worry in them, but she didn't acknowledge him or his words.

How was he so calm?

Her fingernails left marks in the supple leather as she struggled to hear him talk over her heart hammering against her rib cage, but she only stared at him, unable to understand the phrases falling out from between his lips as he leaned forward. He reached out to take her hand, but she brought her knees up to her chest, snatching her arm away, and closed her eyes tight. Her ears roared.

A smooth voice broke through her defenses, garbled in their sense but incessant nonetheless.

A gloved hand landed on her shoulder. "You will be given time for your loved ones to send you off before we board the train."

Her leg jiggled nervously as she watched the boy across from her stand as his name was called, and he was ushered into a side room, a woman and a girl that looked too much like him to be anything else but his little sister engulfed through the door seconds later.

She waited silently, her breathing echoing through the white walled room, but nobody came for her. Even when his family left and his friends entered. Even when the school headmaster stopped by, gave her the hint of a nod. But none dared stop to talk to her.

The boy came back out half an hour later, counted by the heartbeats echoing through her fingertips. He'd been crying heavily but he was doing his best to look tough, to look like he was handling the situation like the man he would never be. He glanced sideways at her, but she looked away.

Myrtle Snow appeared again through double doors, noise of the outside world following her and shutting away as the door clicked close.

"I won't be frivolous with my words, chickies, as I figure you're too upset to understand much more than the basics. I will be your mentor through these next crucial weeks."

The girl looked up into ice blue eyes.

"What?"

"I am your mentor."

The tribute stared at the victor.

Her name had been chosen.

Misty Day was District Seven's choice for the Hunger Games.

OOOoooOOO

The high speed train rushed past coniferous forests into the darkening night and the wild blonde stared out of the windows, knees tucked beneath herself as the boy across from her, her district mate, tried hard to hold a conversation with her.

But she ignored him rather easily, his voice monotone compared to the colorful thoughts running through her head, even though they were steadily turning black and white as her blue-green eyes scanned the horizon.

"You're gonna have to talk to me at one point."

She glanced sideways at the dark skinned boy and grimaced. "Am I?"

"We're tributes of the same district. Yes."

"We're tributes of the same district until we're in the arena." Misty corrected. "And I expect ya to treat me like anyone else once we're in there."

"You'd want me to kill ya?"

"If ya get the chance?" She let out a bark of laughter and let her question hang there as she turned back to the scenery whizzing past them.

He shifted in his seat, squirming in the silence that permeated. He opened his mouth again. "I'm David."

Misty let her head loll back with a deep sigh. "Are ya gonna talk the whole way there?"

"We're goin' to die, do ya realize that? Maybe I want to get as much talkin' done as I can before my throat gets carved out."

"Who says your throat's gonna get carved out? It might be your spleen, your heart. Maybe you'll die of starvation. Dehydration." The wild blonde closed her eyes. "You're kinda borin', thinkin' wise. Maybe ya shouldn't blabber after all."

"I've always wondered why no one visited Misty Day. Now I know."

Misty's blue-green eyes snapped open and she whipped her head up to look at the boy. "What did ya say?"

He shifted again and looked away. "Nothin'."

"Have courage in your opinions." She snarled. "What did ya say."

"I said you're a fuckin' hardass. And that you're alone for a reason. And ya know what? They call ya a fuckin' animal around town and if my nose wasn't workin', I'd have no problem figurin' it out with just my eyes."

"Yeah, because ya smell like a flower, Danny boy." Misty sat up. "Listen to me. We are not friends. We are not allies, or teammates. We won't ever be. We are tributes and we care about our own skin. And if it comes to your survival against mine?" He gazed at her defiantly, and she tilted her head smugly. "Well, at least you'll have a family to cry over your body."

He slumped back in his chair, defeated. "It's David." The tribute muttered.

"I don't give a fuck."

"You're tryna scare me."

"Get over yourself kid." She glanced back outside, chewing on her bottom lip. "I'm not the scariest out there."

He turned in his seat and hugged his knees to his chest, facing into the train, his spine arching at her. She fiddled with the edge of her blouse, content with the silence yet rattled by the constant hum of the anti gravity tracks.

The doors to the car opened with a slide a few silent minutes later, the stainless steel flashing in the dying lights.

Myrtle's bright red hair was a sight to behold in the silver train, and Misty couldn't help but notice, as close as she was to the victor now, how much the capitol had changed the elder.

The wild blonde hadn't been alive when the redhead had won her games, far from it, but she'd known the woman from her birth. Everyone knew her. She'd seen pictures and videos and whenever the games went on, she was shown and relisted and highlighted from every angle possible.

The only living District Seven victor. She'd been young and spry and deadly. Now she was a former shell of herself, hiding behind makeup, bright wigs, and outrageous glasses. Smoke screens and lies.

Though from what she'd seen of the atrocities of her games, Misty didn't blame her for reacting, for living, the way she did.

"Darlings."

David snapped his head up and stood to attention, scrambling to his feet. The redhead's lips tugged into a small smile, and Misty couldn't help but think that there was a hint of smugness behind it.

"Your trials begin now."

The dark skinned boy gazed at her, puzzled. "But, we're not inside the Capitol. We're not even outside the district yet."

"If you don't think we're not watching you already, then you're mistaken."  
>Misty noticed she'd lost their district's distinctive accent.<p>

David nodded and stepped back to lean on the armchair, fingers finding hold.

"We'll need to dress you both for your arrival. You simply cannot arrive in garments such as-" She paused and waved her hands at them, a grimace on her face. "These." Misty glanced down at herself and frowned, but didn't argue.

"Your wardrobes have been filled with fashions from the district, a touch of class added to them, of course. Misty darling, stay away from the plaid."

"But-"

Myrtle gave her a warning glance, and the wild blonde slumped back down into her chair.

"A dinner will be held for the tributes once everyone has arrived. The parade will be the next morning, and training will begin right after. This will give you a few hours to loosen yourselves up, as the train from District Twelve has a much longer journey to travel." She paced the floor and dipped down to smell a flower, one of many that had been put up in abundance around the cabin.

"When are ya gonna train us then? I heard mentors aren't allowed inside the gymnasiums." David said quietly.

"Do you honestly think there is anything I can do to save you?" Myrtle asked, blue eyes cold. "If you survive, I won't take any credit. Be happy with that."

The boy visibly swallowed.

Myrtle turned to leave, but paused to glance over her shoulder. "I will return in an hour. Try to have an outfit picked before then. And Misty?" The wild blonde looked up. "Find something with pockets. I know how much you like hiding bottles, and I wouldn't want your mood soured because you were wanting." She left with a flourish, the silent doors rather unremarkable to her exit.

David turned to stare at Misty. "Ya drink?"

The wild blonde looked away, smirking. "Is that what she meant?"  
>"Don't play stupid with me." The boy snapped. "Look, we're gonna be spendin' time together. Get used to it. How bad is your problem?"<p>

"Problem?"

"My dad used to drink. Do ya get violent? Do ya yell?" He took a step towards her, narrowing his eyes. "What is it?"

"I get belligerently drunk. As I'm supposed to."

"That it?"

"What do ya want, a doctor's note? Fuck off." She stood to her full height, towering over him. "I'm gettin' changed. Ya should do the same."

He snapped his chin up. "Don't tell me what to do."

She brushed past him. "I'll remember those words once we're in the arena."

Her bedroom was fancier than the one she had at home, and she shook her head at the thought that this was only the train to their ultimate destination. Their _final_ destination. She _tssk_ed at the lavish furniture, turning over various metal objects and pausing to feel the silk bed sheets run against the pads of her fingers.

She crossed to the closet and her mouth gaped open at the sheer amount of clothes. She walked into the room, finding it without end and let her hands wander over the different fabrics. Most outfits were too garrish for her, but the deeper she went the more earth colored shirts she founds.

She paused by a tan bomber jacket and buried her fingers into the fabric along the hood. Satisfied, she hefted it out of the closet and passed it over her shoulders, trying it on. It fit perfectly, as she guessed everything in the wardrobe did. She found a tight pair of jeans that definitely accented her already tall legs and she couldn't help but find some satisfaction in turning in front of the mirror, though she'd deny it later. Trapper boots that laced up to her knee finished her off and she finally came out of the closet close to half an hour later. She left her hair down, too lazy as she was to find a hairbrush.

David had opted for something more sober. He stood outside his room, his hands at the lapels of his night black sports jacket, his mountain boots open and his laces undone.

He smirked. "Ya managed to keep your hand off the plaid."

"If I remember well, I didn't want ya talkin' to me." Misty growled. "It still stands."

"Why do ya act like you're my spiteful grandmother? You're not much older. Get off my back already." He grouched back.

"I've been told I'm an old soul." She smiled sweetly at him and threw herself onto the sofa, leg dangling over the side.

It was a few hours before David spoke again, Misty having dozed off on the couch, hiding in the crook of her arm. He prodded at her with the side of his boot, nose pressed to the glass. "Misty."

She roused in a panic and when she realized where she was, turned to glare at him. "I swear to god if ya don't have a good reason for touchin' me with your shoe-"

He shushed her with a wave of his arm thrown back at her. "Misty, we're here." She stood groggily and nudged him aside to stand by him, both their faces peering out into the morning sunrise.

The Capitol glinted in the sun, as silver as the train was, sleek and bare. Futuristic.

"Hey, kid." Misty pushed David with her elbow. "Breathe." He snapped out of his trance to look at her, and frowned.

"I'm fine."

"Ya look like a fish out of water." She moved away from the window. "Enjoy the view. It'll be gone in three weeks."

"What do ya mean?"

"Sorry. _You'll_ be gone."

"That's harsh."

She sat down heavily. "It's reality." She was sure he stuck his tongue out at her reflection, but she didn't respond.

He shifted, his palms against the glass, leaving dirty fingermarks as he let his dark eyes wander the scenery as they bulleted past it.

"How old are ya anyway?" Misty asked.

"Are ya talkin' to me?"

She raised her eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. "I turned fifteen three months ago."

The wild blonde chewed on her bottom lip. "Was it well spent?"

"What, my birthday? Yeah. My mom baked a cake and my friends brought enough money together to get me new shoes." He glanced down at his boots, smiling softly. He sobered. "Though I don't see why ya care. Ya said yourself that we're all gonna die." He paused. "I should probably donate these."

"Ask Myrtle to have them sent to your mom."

David looked up at her. "Ya think she would?"

"It's the least she can do."

He nodded and turned back to stare out the window, his chin in his hands as he leaned heavily on his elbows.

"I hope you're ready."

"Miss Snow."

"I see you're dressed. You'll have to forgive me for not visiting like I said I would, I had matters to attend to. But I'm glad you look sharp." She let her ice blue eyes rake over their outfits. "It's rudimentary, slightly basic, but we'll work with the idea."

"Ya want to make us look rugged." Misty narrowed her eyes. "David's fifteen. He ain't rugged."

"The children of District Seven start work sooner than any other children in Panem. He is already more rugged than most of the other tributes." She looked to the dark skinned boy. "Flex." The boy smiled smugly and brought his arms up to do as he was told, showing off his well defined muscles. As retaliation, Misty brought her right hand up past her head and tugged her jacket down to her shoulder and did the same, her own contracting past the width of his.

She brought her arm down as his smile left his face. "He ain't rugged." She repeated.

"We can work this."

"Work what?" Misty asked, annoyed. She stood and crossed to the bar, throwing a scathing look over her shoulder.

"The tough, protective older sister."

"I didn't even know he existed before his name was called."

"I knew _ya_ existed." David protested. She rolled her eyes as she drank from the bottle of bourbon.

"It doesn't matter if you don't exist in each other's worlds." Myrtle said harshly. "The crowds watching you fight won't know that. We can find you sponsors if you, Misty, act like all you care about is David's survival."

"I won't do it."

"Is that your final say?"

"Ya know what?" The wild blonde turned to face them, polishing off the end of the bottle. "Yeah. It is."

"Ya suck." David threw at her. "We could get out of this alive!"

"We?"

He fell silent and Myrtle clicked her tongue.

"We'll work out another angle. Get ready. We're arriving." The redhead turned away and David ignored Misty's deep gaze as he puppied after her to the door.

The dying sun blinded the both of them as they stepped off the train, immediately immersed in noise as the Capitol crowds in their favor acclaimed their arrival. Lightbulbs flashed at them and paper was thrust into their faces, begging to be signed. With the word 'rugged' in both their minds, Misty and David ignored them and held their heads high as they walked the short distance from the station to a luxurious car waiting for them at the edge of the sidewalk.

Myrtle was already seated in the backseat when they engulfed themselves in.

"Good first impression." She nodded. "On Misty's part."

"Hey-"

"You're fifteen, David. Act your age, act vulnerable. Make them weep for you." The woman said, fitting a cigarette into a jet black holder. "All they want is a good show." The boy grimaced and turned to stare out the window.

"I still ain't doin' it. I ain't vouchin' for him." Misty added from her corner.

The redhead ignored her, continuing on as the wild blonde grimaced. "Who knows, maybe I have a chance with you tributes. Last year's were..." She paused. "Deplorable."

"I saw." David said softly. "He was my friend. He never was any good at runnin'."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence as the car took them deep into the city, past tall buildings and crowded streets.

OOOoooOOO

"Would ya _look_ at this place." David opened his arms wide as he took in the apartments. Misty watched him from the doorway before letting her own blue-green eyes rake the place. The bay windows faced out into the city, and night had long since fallen.

The place was garish, the furniture angled and made out of metal, the colors bright. Misty hated it as soon as David let out a squeal at the food sitting on the dinner table. He rushed over to it, unable to pick the first thing to eat.

As for herself, the wild blonde threw her jacket into a corner and headed out onto the balcony, leaving the dark skinned boy to stuff his face.  
>The night air was cold against her skin and she breathed it in, enjoying the hint of rain in the wind.<p>

"What district?"

Misty turned to look sideways at another balcony, a dozen feet off. A dirty blonde stood there, her elbows on the metal railing, her cigarette lit as she looked out over the Capitol.

"Excuse me?"

The girl turned to stare at Misty. "I said, what district? Where are you from?"

"Oh." The wild blonde shifted her weight. "Seven. Up north. Lumber. Ya?"

"One." She said simply, dragging on her cigarette.

"It musn't be very different here then."

"Not really. Though the caviar is better."

Misty cocked her head to the side. "Caviar?"

"Nevermind." The dirty blonde shifted to the edge of the balcony as Misty did the same, a few feet of emptiness between them. "I'm Madison."

"Misty."

"Nice to meet you. I think." Madison laughed lightly. "My mentor told me to be nice to the tributes. Which is stupid. We're all going to be killing each other in two short weeks."

Misty glanced over her shoulder. "I think my mentor gave up on me."

"Are you being a jerk?"

"I don't want to be here. Do ya?"

The dirty blonde looked away. "I volunteered."

"Why do ya sound so resentful?" The older tribute raised an eyebrow. "That's unusual for a volunteer."

Madison took one last drag of her cigarette and they watched the embers burn low before she flicked it over the side of the building and into the abyss below. "Good talk." She vaguely waved her hand at Misty and stepped back into her apartments, leaving the wild blonde to herself.

Misty stepped back into the salon of the District Seven quarters and was immediately accosted by David.

"Misty, ya _have_ to try this. They have this thin' called ice cream? It's fuckin' magical." He said, his hands full with a big bowl and an even bigger spoon. "It's cold and sweet and it's like ice but not."

"Good night David."

OOOoooOOO

"The District Twelve tributes will be here sooner than expected." Myrtle announced the next morning. David looked up from his cereals, his fingers already reaching for a stray pancake. "Which means President Goode will be holding the tributes dinner tonight. We'll have to dress you for it, and have you fitted for the parade tomorrow." The redhead sighed deeply as she turned to look at the wild blonde across from her. She closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath. "Misty, do you know what a hairbrush is?"

Misty looked up, mouth full, and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "Yeah."

"Do you know how to use one?"

Misty scowled as David laughed from behind his stack of waffles.

"I suggest you learn how to, if you don't. Otherwise the hair team will have a field day with you, and we both know you don't like being touched."

Misty slumped in her chair, defeated.

The costume team walked around her for more than ten minutes, looking at her curves and at her height and mostly whispering between themselves as they eyed her dubiously. Myrtle watched from the corner of the room, arms crossed.

"We might try a short dress." One man finally said. "For the legs."

"Legs?" Misty echoed.

He smiled tightly. "You're quite tall. We can work with that."

"I don't like dresses."

The three standing around her sighed heavily and they turned to face Myrtle.

The redhead pursed her lips. "You don't like dresses."

"They're awkward. Ya can't walk in them."

"Find her a suit."

The man's eyes opened wide. "Miss Snow?"

"You heard me. A suit. One that matches David's."

"One that matches-" He paused. "Yes, alright. Okay." He turned to his team and ushered them into the closet. Misty watched Myrtle, her eyes narrowed.

"Ya agree with me?"

"You might as well be comfortable. But you _are_ wearing heels."

The wild blonde groaned, but said nothing more.

OOOoooOOO

Misty Day nursed her drink, it being her second, and her fingers itched to reach for a third one. David sat to her right, his hand tight around his fork as he ate silently, his eyes up on the tributes sitting around them.

For a room full of teenagers, it was rather quiet.

Misty tilted her head to look to the front of the table, where the president of Panem sat in her white throne.

Fiona Goode. Older than time herself yet with an look of youth to her, a look of transcendence that gave off its own light. And as often as Misty had seen her smile softly to the cameras, transferred to the television in her home as that little smirk that scared her as a child, it was the scowl on her features now that made her blood run cold.

Seated to her left, Myrtle nudged her elbow and jutted her chin at the girl's plate, silently asking her to eat. But Misty shook her head. She wasn't hungry. Far from it. David ate enough for the both of them anyway, and she nodded to him as he reached for her plate discreetly, under the watchful eye of an older tribute sitting stiffly across from them. She lifted her gaze and met his, and he looked down into his lap.

District Four. _I think_.

From the head of the table came President Goode's soft twang, her laugh light, her manner apologetic. "I would have thought my daughter would be here already." She glanced sideways at the man sitting at her side. He shifted awkwardly and looked to the empty seat at her other arm. "But she must have been held back."

"You know how ladies are." A deep voice growled from the other side of the room. Across from her, at the other end, sat the head gamemaker.  
>He'd been introduced to the welcomed tributes as nothing else but "the axeman", known for his over-excessive use of sharp instruments in the games' cornucopia. His gray eyes unsettled even the strongest that met his gaze, and Misty now couldn't help the shivers that ran up her spine and settled in her shoulder blades.<p>

He grinned. "They take their time to look pretty." Fiona smiled back, but the wild blonde noticed the flash of warning in her light hazel eyes, that the axeman no doubt ignored.

"Maybe she'll get here for the after party." The president raised her glass to the room, and the tributes, mentors, and past victors followed suit.  
>Misty drank heavily from her wine glass as they toasted, and she groaned as David nudged her with a sharp elbow in the side. She glanced sideways at him and he raised his shoulders, frowning heavily at her.<p>

"Please don't embarass us by gettin' hammered." He hissed.

"I'm nowhere near wasted." She replied.

"Don't make me cut ya off at the source." He threatened. "Hold off on the drinks, at least until the soirée."

She set her glass down rather grouchily, but didn't touch it for the rest of the dinner. She kept her eyes trained on her now empty plate, her fingers tapping randomly on the white tablecloth, her heels clacking on the marble beneath them as she worked her knee. Myrtle's hand came to rest on hers, and she stilled.

Once the plates were taken away and the tables cleared by avoxes in sharp suits, they all stood and followed President Goode and the axeman to the ballroom annexed to the side.

The bay windows were tall and the ceiling higher, dotted with crystal chandeliers that gave off a hazy light. Food was strewn about on tables set against the sides, and David let his eyes rake over them, already headed there in his mind as Misty tried not to vomit at the simple thought of eating.

But the room was already full with people, socialites of the Capitol and sponsors alike who began clapping and hollering as soon as the head gamemaker waved his arm over the tributes to acknowledge them to the crowd.

The music began, played by an orchestra in a corner of the room, and David stuck to Misty's side even though she tried hard to lose him in the throng of people, Myrtle watching from not far behind.

Suddenly, the redhead was tugging on both of them, holding them back by the back of their suit jackets. They paused and turned, puzzled, and she waved a man over, the one who'd been sitting by Fiona Goode during the dinner. "We have to make good impressions." Myrtle sing sang in a whisper.

The man grinned momentarily as he shook the tributes' hands. "Hank Foxx. Gamemaker."

"And District Six victor." Myrtle added graciously.

"That too, yes." He smiled widely, his canines sharp. "You must be Misty, and David?"

The dark skinned boy nodded.

"I must say, your mother's tears at the reaping will make for amazing footage once the games start." The gamemaker said brightly.

Misty watched David freeze, his eyes fixed on Hank's. He opened his mouth to speak, but found nothing to say.

"Hmm." Hank drank from his glass and pointed at the wild blonde as he swallowed. "I can't say you're helping us much though, Miss Day. You'll have to let us know if you have any family at all, cousins twice removed or something. Or friends? Lovers, past and present?"

Misty stiffened. "Sorry, no. The remains of my family are somewhere in Capitol vaults."

Foxx's smile didn't leave his face. "I'll have to look then."

David, still shaken, lifted his arm to tug at Misty's elbow. He looked up at her, dark eyes now black. "Come on, I want some ice cream before it gets taken away."

She narrowed her blue-green gaze on him and nodded softly. "Mr. Foxx, it was a pleasure."

"As it was for me. I'll see you at the parade?"

"We have nowhere else to be."

She pushed and pulled David towards a table by the wall, and hefted a bowl of lemon sherbet doused with vodka into his hands, which he took with bleary eyes, his fingers closing around the spoon she handed him.  
>She turned as the room suddenly grew silent, breaths baited as the large double doors opened slowly.<p>

"I apologize for being late, mother."

The sweet voice made Misty's ears perk, and she struggled to find who it belonged to, the men before her too tall to overlook. She glanced sideways to watch Fiona stiffen and place a fake smile on her face.

"It's quite alright, join the festivities. It's a party." Those around her laughed. Misty finally gave up and turned back to David, who's slumped against a wall and was on his second bowl of ice cream, apparently oblivious to the alcohol in the dessert. Or maybe he was aware. She reached for a tumbler.

The District Seven mentor was suddenly at her side, fixing her jacket and tugging it down. "Won't you look presentable?"

"I can do it myself." Misty griped. Myrtle took her hand and began to walk her away from David.

Her voice became rather loud, as if she was trying to prove a point. "Misty darling, there's someone I want you to meet."

The tribute opened her mouth to protest, but the redhead's grip on her wrist didn't leave much room for arguing, and she followed the victor to a corner of the room to stand before a tall blonde, her hair falling down her back and her dress as black as night.

Myrtle left her with the woman, passed her hand over Misty's shoulders, and walked away, legs taking her farther into the dining room as she saw familiar faces. The two women left alone stood apart and Misty couldn't help but stare into the shorter blonde's eyes.

One was black, the other ice blue, and she was fascinated by the way they seemed to stare into her soul. If not unnerved.

"I'm Cordelia Goode." The older blonde held her hand out, but the taller girl didn't take it.

"Misty Day. District Seven."

"Do you announce yourself like that to everyone?" Cordelia cocked her head to the side, smiling.

"I was told to by my mentor. Apparently, y'all like labels. Especially the ones that mark hunted meat."

The woman shifted awkwardly and her smile fell a little, but she faked another as she tightened her grip on her glass. "Well then, it's nice to meet you, Misty."

"Ya, ah," Misty paused to gaze the woman up and down. "You're the president's daughter."

"That's right."

The tribute nodded heavily, her eyebrows raising.

"Does that intimidate you?" Cordelia asked.

"Nothing intimidates me, Miss Goode."

"And I believe you. How are you liking the capitol?"

"It's a weasel's nest." Misty answered easily. "And even though some of the vermin can be cute," She tilted her head at the woman. "I can't help but think that this is all some elaborate plan to make it look like the tributes are winners for gettin' picked against their will for a fight to the death in an undisclosed location with kids they've never met. It's like we have to be thankful for this grand opportunity you've given us. We're gettin' fed and dressed and we're smilin' for the cameras. Did you know the District Eight girl literally _cannot_ sleep? She just screams and cries and honestly, it's fuckin' annoying'." She paused to take a sip of her vodka and nodded. "I am thankful for the pot roast though."

The president's daughter laughed lightly, taken aback. "That's not quite the answer I expected."

"Why, because ya don't know what's goin' on in your backyard or because you're closin' your eyes to what you're doin'?"

"Are you always this blunt? This rude?" The older blonde asked.

Misty snapped her drink back and slammed the tumbler down onto the nearest table before looking up into blue and black eyes. She grinned. "Defense mechanism. Or blame the drink, if nothing else."

Cordelia watched her, a certain hint of wonder on her face before she finally grimaced and turned away, high heels clacking on marble.

Misty watched her walk away, slightly dejected. Her elbow was tugged on and she turned to face Madison Montgomery, who had quite a smirk on her face as she too followed Cordelia Goode's retreating figure. She turned back to the older tribute with a knowing look in her eyes, but didn't mention it.

"I would have sat down next to you at dinner if we hadn't been assigned seats by district number." The dirty blonde said easily. "Don't tell him I said this, but the axeman smells like a fucking attic." Misty laughed, and the younger tribute held out a flask. "Drink?"

"I really shouldn't. I've made enough of a mess of this evenin' already."

Madison fixed her with her dark hazel eyes. "We're going to die."

"Pass it over."

The two leaned on the wall, sharing the dirty blonde's whiskey.

She stumbled outside a half an hour later after having dropped the dirty blonde off at the elevator, tripping in her boots as she struggled to breathe in the wind whipping past her. Even out here, the air was different than at home, and she wasn't sure she liked it. It was fabricated. It had a big red "capitol" stamp marked on it.

She glanced sideways as she heard a rustle, and found Cordelia Goode leaning back against the edge of the building, eyes closed and head tilted back, her champagne glass forgotten at her feet. She frowned and shifted as Misty paused, but she didn't acknowledge the wild blonde, even though she knew she was there.

"I can leave, if ya want." The tribute tried, stammering over her words.

"Can you stay quiet?"

"Yeah."

"Then stay."

Misty nodded, even though Cordelia wasn't watching, and bit at her lower lip, looking up at the moon in the sky. The fire in her veins, mostly due to the alcohol running through her system, made her feel slightly dizzy and she found it hard to stay in one place, tittering in her heels. She turned towards the older blonde despite herself and opened her mouth to speak.

Cordelia's raised hand stopped her. "Stop."

"Do ya not like talkin' to tributes? Is that it?" Misty suddenly snapped, her frown deep. "Too good for us?"

Mismatched eyes opened. "Blunt, rude, egocentric too?"

"Ya don't have to lie to me. I get it. You're too high and mighty." The wild blonde slurred, taking a step towards the older woman. She brought her arms up to rest them on the wall on either side of Cordelia's head. "Is that why ya couldn't keep a conversation with me?"

"Of course it has nothing to do with the fact that you're so drunk you're swaying on the spot, as you were then."

Misty let her lips hover against a sharp jaw. "Casualties happen. I swear I'm great at small talk."

"I'm sure."

The tribute's blue-green eyes opened and she looked down into the president's daughter's face. She let her fingers run down a smooth side and she pinched at a hip. "Do ya have somethin' against tributes then?"

"Yes."

"I like your eyes."

"Get off."

Misty let her head loll forward but she did as she was told and took a step backwards, hands held up by her shoulders in a show of surrender.

She felt the woman move past her and when she finally opened her eyes, Cordelia Goode was gone.

OOOoooOOO

"I like what you've done, Quentin."

"Well, Myrtle, you did ask for something different, for once." The man laughed lightly. It was the same man that had dressed Misty and David the first night, and she couldn't help but try to glance over his shoulder to see what he'd come up with for the parade. David stood by her, shifting his weight from foot to foot awkwardly as he too waited to see.

"Come here, chickies." Myrtle waved them over, and she stepped back to show off the mannequins that Quentin and his team had set up in a corner of the tributes' penthouse.

David's mouth fell open as he circled his outfit, his fingers reaching out to touch the fabric.

The short man had managed to make an armor out of intricate leaves. Like chainmail, they overlapped each other and glinted gold in the light, even though they were glazed green. The mannequin's arms were covered in bark like gloves that ran up to its elbows, and it was paired with cream colored woolen pants. David's managed to show off his chiseled torso, running down to his navel, while Misty's showcased her sharp collarbones and her powerful arms.

The dark skinned boy whistled softly and glanced up at the wild blonde, grinning. She smiled back, but couldn't help her fidgeting.

"Alright, fit it on. The parade's gonna start soon and we can't be late." Quentin quipped, pushing them towards their bedrooms. "My assistants will help you. Go on. Go."

It took a good ten minutes for all the metal leaves to be crosshatched and fitted onto her body, but she managed to fit into the costume, narrowing her eyes at the brightness it eluded whenever she hit one of the lights.

Her and David were marched to the bottom of the building and driven to the parade hall, black cars in front and behind them, filled with the other tributes. They were engulfed into a hangar, where night black horses awaited them, chariots attached to their bridles, their heads shaking as they waited impatiently.

"Oh, I _love_ your outfit!"

Misty turned and smiled softly at Madison, trussed up in gold and ribbons. "Thanks. Ya, ah, goddess of war?"

"My stylists aren't original. This has been done so many times I could hurl." The dirty blonde scrunched her nose as she looked herself over. "Oh my god, you should see District Six though. They're dressed as train conductors, and I almost pissed myself." She pointed a manicured nail over at a corner of the hangar, where the two tributes stood awkwardly in bright blue outfits, angular and square on their bodies, almost as if they'd been ironed around them.

The wild blonde shook her head, smiling softly.

"And District Four-" Madison paused to giggle, and she held up her hand as she couldn't control herself. She walked away, unable to subside her laughter, and left Misty with David before their own chariot.

"She's a riot." David deadpanned.

"Oh hush. It's her way of copin'. Yours is eatin', hers is makin' fun."

"And yours is drinkin'?"

She glanced sideways at the dark skinned boy, but didn't answer him. They both mounted onto the open top carriage as a voice above them called for the tributes to do just so, Misty to the right, and she kept her gaze on the chariot ahead.

She couldn't help the smile that overtook her face as she raked her eyes over the District Four costumes.

The national anthem began and the tributes simultaneously raised their heads, chins held high, as the horses began to trot out onto the parade walk. The citizens that had gathered went into a frenzy, ignoring the music that played and the respect that had to be shown.

Myrtle had specifically asked them not to hold hands or to wave, and had instead given them both spears to raise into the air, to lean on heavily once they came to a halt. They did just that, and the crowds seemed to get a little louder as they rose the weapons into the air, glinting in the bright sunlight.

Misty looked up into the tribunes, eyes narrowed defiantly as David tightened his hold on the horses' reins, as they came to a stop with the music.

Fiona Goode watched them from a hundred feet high in her white throne as always, her chin in her hand as she let her eyes rake over the tributes below, coming to a halt beneath her for her inspection.

The wild blonde couldn't help but feel the disdain rolling off the woman in waves.

The crowds around them yelled and screamed and shouted district names, the noise unbearable. They waited and waited and watched President Goode, but the woman didn't move from her seat. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the axeman and Hank Foxx exchanging glances behind her, and that was when Misty noticed.

The throne besides her was empty.

"What's goin' on? Why aren't we done already?" David whispered.

"Cordelia Goode ain't here."

It took a few minutes, the citizens of the Capitol falling silent as they all waited, before the president's daughter finally arrived. Her face betrayed no emotion, and she easily ignored the nasty looks she received from her mother and the gamemakers alike. She whispered something quickly, and the president dismissed her with a wave of her hand. Her daughter looked down at her feet as she sat down, and Misty could have sworn she saw her slap Hank Foxx's hand away. The president stood.

"Welcome to the 86th annual Hunger Games." Fiona Goode boomed. She waited for the noise to die down. "And welcome to this year's tributes, ready to lay down their lives for the good of Panem."

OOOoooOOO

Billie Dean Howard had been officiating the Games for ten years now, her nail polish more and more gaudy as time went by, her hair a platinum blonde that hurt to look at too close, and her dresses so tight it was a wonder she could still breathe. She was the Games' sex appeal, and in another world, if Misty and David hadn't been both biting their nails as they waited to go up onto the television plateau, the two would have been deep in conversation about her current color and the way her breasts were pushed so high she could have poked someone's eye out.

Madison had already been through, and had been pegged as the aloof one, the snarky one, the one so sure of herself that no one could touch her, but Misty knew better and she couldn't help but start pacing as the District Two tributes were called up and as the girl from Eight began crying softly again, her sobs stifled behind her hand.

Slightly annoyed, the wild blonde fixed the lapel on David's suit as she watched the line move up, his an almost identical one to hers, both in black with emerald green accents. The boy from District Three was wild haired and shy, and wanted nothing more than to become an engineer if he survived. He still had dreams.

She walked inside a little circle as David watched her with his dark eyes, too upset to move himself. He cast her long look as her name was called and managed a small, encouraging smile, that she returned as best as she could, adding a pass over his hair as she walked out into bright lights, her heels clacking on the polished floors. Myrtle's words rung in her head. _Don't make a fool of yourself_.

The crowds were in an uproar, and a quick glance confirmed her thoughts. Videos of the parade were being diffused behind her, and she slowed down to watch herself as she and David slid by on their chariot, their armor glinting in the sunlight, the rays catching the gold and green leaves.

A laugh pulled her out of her reverie and she shook Billie Dean's hand firmly, and took the seat that was offered to her.

"I guess you're just as enamored with the look as we were!" The platinum blonde teased, crossing her legs. Misty copied her after a moment, nodding softly. The woman across from her took on a conspiring look and leaned in, almost as if she were telling a secret. "I heard that when you first came to the Capitol, you were somewhat untamed. You look absolutely docile now, have we gotten to your heart with the finer side of things?" She winked.

"I must admit, I was a little," Misty paused. "Confused, when my name was called. And the opportunies given to me had not come to the forefront yet. I'm not usually angry, just alone. I've met more people this week than I have my entire life." Up where she was perched up in the stands, Myrtle nodded softly at her, as Cordelia's mismatched eyes watched her intently. She swallowed heavily. "I was just out of my element."

"Confused! That's right, you've just turned nineteen."

"I did, a few hours ago."

"What a great honor to be able to join the Games before your birthday ruined the opportunity." Billie nodded her head enthusiastically.

"Yeah."

"Now tell us about this armor of yours, it's just magnificient!"

"Our mentor's idea." Misty said quietly, glancing back over her shoulder at the pictures that surfaced again. "And with the help of Quentin, our stylist. They were both a little tired to see our District dressed up as trees."

"As we all were, am I right?" The crowd joined Billie in a hearty laugh. She sobered, and Misty hated the time limit on the interview. She didn't have time to wrap her head around the questions. "What do you want most out of this?"

The wild blonde shifted in her seat. "Out of what?"

"The Games. What will you do if you win?"

Misty glanced back up into the stands. "I haven't thought about that."

"Not at all?"

She met the woman's black eyes with her own blue-green ones. "There are quite a few skilled tributes here."

"Like your fellow tribute?" Billie leaned forward again. "Do you care about him?"

"There's gonna be one winner, Miss Howard." Misty shook her head. "I don't have time to."

OOOoooOOO

"That last answer will cost you."

"I told ya I wasn't protectin' him." Misty replied, pulling at her jacket, itching to get it off. "And I meant it. And I kept my word."

"They're going to think you're heartless. Pessimistic. You're going to lose the sponsors' love!" Myrtle continued.

Misty rubbed at her forehead with the palm of her hand. "What does it matter?"

"Sponsors can _save_ you, you ungrateful child."

The wild blonde threw her balled up jacket into a corner of the room angrily. "Sponsors won't be in the arena with me!"

"Have you not watched any of the Games since your birth?" Myrtle rounded the couch to block the girl. "Sponsors could save your life with their gifts, and you're spitting on those chances by not working any angle whatsoever. You're boring, 2D, unworthy to win."

Misty bared her teeth. "Then I'll die." She walked to her room and slammed the door shut behind her, listening to it echo as she threw herself face down onto her bed.

She couldn't have said how long she fitfully slept for, still dressed in her suit, but when she awoke, the sun was long gone and the moon up, and someone was knocking on the penthouse door. She waited and waited, her face down in her pillow, but no one went to go and open and the knocking continued. Annoyed, she stood and left her room to cross the penthouse.

She opened the door. "This is ridiculous, do ya know how late-"

Cordelia's mismatched eyes looked Misty up and down, and she let her tongue lick at her dry lips before speaking. "Am I bothering you?"

The wild blonde paused to glance over her shoulder, and stepped out into the hall. She found it difficult to remember what she'd been brooding about, and she shrugged softly. "Ah, no."

"Can I come in? It's not that I don't like the hallway, but," Cordelia cocked her head to the side, trailing off.

"I mean, it's your place, not mine. Do what ya want. But quietly. David and Myrtle are sleepin'." The girl stepped aside and the older woman stepped through and walked to Misty's open room without question. The younger blonde followed, frowning softly.

Cordelia's gaze wandered over the clothes strung about on the floor and on the furniture as Misty closed her bedroom door. "Haven't the avox been here to clean?" She asked, grimacing.

"I didn't let them in. This is my sanctuary for the next few days, I don't need bad vibes."

"I can leave, if you want."

Misty shook her head. "No, you're fine." Cordelia picked at a shirt hanging on a lamp and let it fall to the floor before sitting down on the bed.

"What does the president's daughter need?"

"Maybe I want to spend time with you."

The tribute glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "At three in the mornin'? After ya so nicely told me to get lost a few days ago? Why do I feel like you're lyin' to me?"

"You were drunk then. Why would I lie to you?"

Misty climbed up onto the bed, crawling to Cordelia's side to hover above her, blue-green eyes narrowed. "My daddy use to call it a defense mechanism, lyin'? Mine is bein' brutally honest. And yours is not." She paused. "Why lie to me? I'm no threat to ya."

"Tributes are always threats. That's what my father used to say."

"When he was alive."

"That's a low-blow."

"Your father killed mine."

Cordelia looked away. "He killed a lot of people. Don't take it personally."

Misty sat up to her full height, staring down at the woman. "What do ya want?"

"I wasn't lying. I do want to spend time with you." Mismatched eyes glanced up. "There's something about you, Misty Day."

"Explain." Misty asked, watching as Cordelia's fingers played with the covers. Suddenly, the woman stood up.

"You know, a lot of citizens call the Capitol 'pity central'." She picked up a pair of boy shorts and stretched them out before letting them drop onto the duvet. "Pity friends, pity favors, pity fucks. If you come in, you're going to suffer one way or another, so you might as well enjoy your time here. Since it's so short and all."

"Cut to the chase."

Cordelia turned to watch her, mismatched eyes blazing, and Misty found herself squirming beneath her gaze. "I like you."

The wild blonde blew air out of her nose. "Do ya? I wouldn't have been able to tell." Cordelia nodded as she stepped closer to the girl.

"Your mentor pulled you to me that first night, and honestly I didn't care to look at the others. You were magnificent at the parade. At the interview."

"It was probably the outfits. You'll have to thank Myrtle Snow." The wild blonde took a step back despite the blood thumping in her ears.

"It was you." The older woman said, her fingers hovering above Misty's blouse.

"Are ya sure?"

"Why are you so hesitant right now? You weren't before."

"Ya aren't exactly the nicest person, Cordelia Goode."

"What did you say my mechanism was? Lying?" The older blonde grimaced and crossed her arms over her chest. "I guess masks are another. You have to have a few when you live in the Capitol. But you know that." She paused and looked away. "I'm actually very docile. I just hate being dressed up and paraded around for my mother to use."

"Ya and me both." Misty shifted her weight. "Ya know, if I wasn't about to be sent off to my death next week, I'd have loved to get to know ya."

Cordelia stepped closer to her. "We still could. We have some time."

"Ya think?"

Cordelia smiled and tilted her head as she let her hands run up the tribute's side, her eyes wandering over smooth skin as she let her lips hover over Misty's. "Yeah."

The air between them was palpable and charged with electriticy and sparks that left both of them breathless as they exhaled together, against each other.

Misty gasped in a breath, flexing her fingers against her sides, itching to lay her hands on the vision before her. "That's, ah, that's good to hear."

"Is that a pun on my name?" Cordelia asked, laughing lightly, her fingers wrapping around the wild blonde's loose tie.

"Are ya gonna kiss me?"

The president's daughter grinned as she pulled the younger girl down to meet her lips, kissing her soundly. They both threw caution to the wind as soon as they moaned into each other's mouths and as Cordelia's arms snaked around Misty's neck to anchor in her curls. Misty's own fingers fell to the dip in the shorter woman's back and pulled her in until they both fell onto the bed.

Lithe fingers tugged at the bottom of the older blonde's shirt and Cordelia let Misty run it past her shoulders and throw it to the side as her own fingers found white shirt buttons to undo.

The older blonde hovered above her, coming down to place sloppy kisses down the wild blonde's neck, pausing to nip and bite as Misty breathed heavily into her ear, her own hands coming up to grasp at her ribs, inching past to her breasts. Cordelia faltered as the tribute's hips jutted into hers, and she let out a little groan as she sat up to rest on her lower stomach, grinding down.

Cordelia couldn't help the question falling past her lips. "Is this your first time?"

Misty nodded, pants coming out in waves and her fingers tight on Cordelia's thighs. The older blonde suddenly looked away, letting out a light, broken, laugh. She crawled off of the girl beneath her and threw herself onto the other side of the bed, arms out wide as she gazed up at the ceiling.

Misty sat up on her elbows, confused. "Why did ya stop?"

"You're a virgin."

"I, well I know how it works. I know what to expect." The tribute blurted out, frown deep. "Ya can't start and then not finish."

"It wouldn't be very fair to you."

"I'm gonna die, Delia."

The older blonde frowned softly at the sudden nickname, but didn't mention it. "I've heard that one before."

"Ya can't lie to me and tell me ya didn't enjoy that as much as I just did. Whatever that was. However short it was." Misty paused, and her voice was suddenly soft as she found Cordelia's fingers in the sheets. "Is this because of Hank Foxx?"

"It's about Hank. And it's not." The older blonde muttered, suddenly sitting up. "I'm supposed to get married to him, you know that?"

"Yeah. I watched the engagement tour."

"I keep trying to push it back but mother's going to catch up to me at one point."

"It's obvious you don't like him, so why are ya marryin' him?" Misty asked, sitting up too. She watched as Cordelia reached for her shirt and hoisted it above her head.

"Because he was a tribute that I took a liking to, and I took that liking too far. And he happened to live." The president's daughter answered. She ignored Misty's burning gaze as she pulled her blouse into place, tucking it into the waistband of her skirt. "And mother didn't want word of my _indiscretions_ getting out. So I'm marrying him."

"So this was nothin' more to ya than what you had with him all those years ago. I'm a copy, revenge, in some way? Or I was, until ya grew a conscience right then."

"Misty-" Cordelia paused, suddenly annoyed. She turned to face her and leaned back on the bedroom door. "I, no. You're not revenge. You pulled me to you, alright? I didn't lie. There's something about you, something that I never had with Hank, that I never will." She looked down at the floor. "I do like you."

"Even though I was rude? Egocentric?"

The older blonde pushed air out of her nose, fighting a smile that would mirror Misty's own small one.

"Are ya worried about your reputation, or your mother?"

The president's daughter didn't reply and instead chose to chew on her bottom lip.

"Because you shouldn't be worried about either of them. I'm not comin' back to snitch. I'm gonna die in there."

"That's what Hank said."

"I'm not a liar."

Cordelia's hand fell from the doorknob.

OOOoooOOO

Misty and Cordelia awoke with a start as the wild blonde's bedroom door was knocked on.

"Rise and shine, Misty Day. Training starts in an hour. You should get dressed and consider eating breakfast. Will you need help with the zippers on your training combination?" Myrtle called through.

"No-!" Misty scrambled to stand, untangling herself from Cordelia's grip. "No, don't come in, I mean, I'm not dressed. I can do it myself. Worry about David." She could almost see the grimace the redhead must have been pulling, but a few seconds later she heard retreating footsteps. She turned back to the older blonde still rubbing sleep out of her eyes, and she smiled apologetically.

"You're gonna have to go."

"Is District Seven always this kind to their guests?"

"We'll both get killed if you're found here." Misty reminded her, throwing her her skirt. Cordelia caught it easily.

"It's not like we did anything. You fell asleep." The older blonde teased. She reached out and tugged Misty to her, kissing her softly. "Not that I tried." The wild blonde shook her head as she pulled away.

"Come on, Delia."

"I like that." Cordelia smiled softly as she laid back against the pillows, stretching our her muscles.

Misty glanced back at her as she ruffled through her closet. "Like what?"

"That nickname."

The wild blonde blushed.

"Alright, I'll get going. As much as I like _sticking_ it to my mother, I don't want to get into trouble, and I'd rather you not go in to the games with a disadvantage."

The tribute turned to watch her as she hobbled into her uniform. "She can do that?"

"What, fix the games? Sure."

"That's terrifyin'."

"Welcome to the Capitol." Cordelia fixed her blouse and leaned over the bed to pull Misty to her once more, kissing her soundly, tangling her fingers in wild curls. She pulled away reluctantly and rested her forehead on Misty's. Her breathing was ragged as she spoke. "Can you distract David and Myrtle?"

"David's always distracted."

Cordelia laughed lightly as Misty tugged her to the door and peeked outside. She waited a moment before pushing the woman out of the room and into the salon, running her to the penthouse's lobby as Myrtle scolded David for the milk running down his chin.

Misty opened the door and let Cordelia through and out into the hallway, who turned and placed one last kiss against Misty's cheek, her touch lingering. The older blonde opened her mouth to say something, but frowned as she chose not to and instead waved at the girl before disappearing around a corner.

"Misty, is that you darling? Come eat."

OOOoooOOO

"I want this in the arena."

David glanced up at Misty, his own hands around a short sword. He let his dark eyes rake over the double ended ax she held gingerly in between her fingers. She motioned for him to keep watching and she pressed her thumb against a button in the middle. It clicked as it came apart in two, one end in each hand.

He whistled in appreciation.

"This is really fine craftsmanship. This is the sharpest ax I've ever seen, even though we've been choppin' up wood all our lives."

"Maybe ya can ask Myrtle to get a word in."

Misty glanced up at the gamemakers in the stands above them. "Maybe." She looked back down at David. "What did ya find?"

"Nothin' much." He admitted. "I'm afraid for the scorin'. If I don't get a good score the sponsors won't take me."

"Your personality will win them over enough."

"I need a skill, Misty." He grouched. "I can't shoot a bow. And I can't swing as well as ya." He trailed off as he noticed a career watching him from a corner of the training hub. He whispered angrily now. "I'm gonna get eaten on scorin' day."

"There ya go, there's your skill." She teased. "Eatin'."

He scowled at her, but turned away as he tried his best to hide a small smile.

A loud explosion made them both whip around, and they watched as a large plume of smoke clouded up into the air. The wild haired tribute from District Three stepped out of it, slightly ashen at the edges and smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry guys. Just a minor setback. Nothing to see here." He waved the curious girl from Nine away.

Misty spoke to David, but kept her eyes on the other boy. "Have ya been makin' friends? We're gonna need some in the arena."

"That girl from Eight is pretty nice."

"She's useless."

"Yeah. So I made nice with the two from Eleven." He leaned in to whisper. "Bastien's pretty weird. He just grunts a lot."

"He's got bull horns attached to his necklace. That didn't ring weird to ya in the first place?"

David smirked. "What about ya? Any friends?"

"Well I've got Madison, and she's been trainin' for a while. But honestly she's too busy makin' flirty eyes with the boy from Six to pay attention right now." Misty scrunched her nose. "He's obviously got a thing for his fellow tribute, so I don't see why she's even tryin'."

"She looks kinda oblivious in general." He narrowed his eyes. "Oh no."

"What?"

"You're thinkin' about talkin' to the boy who just set himself on fire."

"He can make explosions, David. That can be useful."

"It looked accidental to me."

She set her ax back on its pedestal and carefully made her way over to the raised platform where the sun kissed boy was sitting cross-legged. He looked up and smiled warmly.

"Misty Day, District Seven. Lumber, strong arms, most likely to use an ax." He stood and held out his hand. "I'm Kyle."

"Are ya keepin' a notebook on everyone here?" She shook his hand firmly.

"I like knowing things." He blushed. "But it doesn't look like your friend has a skill yet. He's rather scrawny compared to you."

"How did ya-" She paused and glanced around. "How did ya know he's doesn't have a skill? We just started, and you've been over here all mornin'."

"I told you, I like knowing things."

She followed him with her eyes as he sat back down. "You're the one who wants to be an engineer."

He motioned for her to sit by his side. "I'm from Three, I have wires instead of blood. Watch." He reached his arm up to grab at a screwdriver on the table above them and brought it down to use it on one of the metal panels they were sitting on, unscrewing the corners until it came off easily. He scooted back to hide the hole he'd made from view and reached behind him to grab at a see through screen.

"Have you used these yet? They're all over the penthouses. They're like mini computers. My grandfather helped design them."

"I, ah, no. I didn't know they turned on." Misty admitted.

He shrugged good naturedly as he grabbed at a wire inside the panel and brought it out, unrolling it from its case. He played with the frayed edges before attaching them to the opening inside the screen's own openings.  
>It suddenly turned on in a bluish haze, the same blue the Capitol was known for using. He used his finger to scroll over the screen, zooming in and out of menus as Misty watched with wide eyes. He finally smiled, satisfied, and handed it to her. She took it gingerly and let her mouth drop open.<p>

"That's, that's David!" She glanced back over her shoulder and watched avidly as the boy on the screen did the same thing as her fellow tribute, but from another angle. "How did ya-?"

"I got in through the camera system, that's how I knew he didn't have a skill." He grinned. "That'll be my 'thing' for the scoring session."

"You're bound to get one hell of a score." She paused, suddenly thinking of Cordelia's words the night before. "But ya have to be careful. Ya don't want the Capitol mad at ya. If they know ya can get into their systems...Listen, ya might find yourself at a disadvantage inside the arena, they'll make it happen. You're dangerous to them if they know ya can do this."

He glanced sideways at her. "Me? Dangerous?"

"Ya bypassed their systems without alertin' anybody."

He squirmed besides her and grabbed at the screen in her hands, suddenly shutting it off and slamming the panel back onto the floor quickly. "You're probably right. I can't do that. I'll have to find something else." He looked up. "I'm no good at physical stuff."

"I can help."

He narrowed his eyes at her as he mulled his thoughts over. "Are you suggesting an alliance?"

"Are ya?"

He grinned.

OOOoooOOO

"Hi."

"Miss Goode."

Cordelia tilted her head to the side in question at the sudden formality, but grimaced knowingly and turned away halfway, her hands tight behind her back as a District Twelve tribute passed her. She glanced over her shoulder and waited until he was well out of earshot before turning back to Misty, a small smile on her face. "Let me try that again." She paused. "Hi."

"Hi Delia."

The older blonde let herself grin, a small blush creeping up her neck. "How was training? Make any friends?"

"A few. But I wouldn't want to tell ya, ya might tell someone and screw me over." Misty taunted, taking a step closer. Cordelia's breath got caught in her throat at the sudden invasion of privacy, but she didn't pull away.

"And here I thought you'd add something hurtful to that sentence, like a horrible nickname."

"Like?"

"Like 'Capitol', or 'First Daughter'."

Misty wriggled her nose. "I think 'Delia' is enough." She giggled as the older blonde feigned hurt and slapped her softly on the arm. She retreated into herself as another tribute passed by and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned on the wall with one shoulder.

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

The wild blonde faked thinking, letting her wrist go limp as she explained. "I mean, I have a hair appointment, and then David wants to talk over our manicures. And I think Madison suggested a wine tasting class out at the-" She trailed off as Cordelia began laughing. "I'm free."

The president's daughter let her mismatched eyes rake over the tribute. "Myrtle won't miss you for a few hours?"

"I don't think she cares where I get off to, as long as I come back alive."

"I'll try to keep you breathing then." Cordelia leaned in, tilting her head back, eyes bright. She found Misty's fingers with her own. "Come on."

The wild blonde let herself be tugged down the hallway by an incredibly excited Cordelia Goode, her own smile rivaling the older woman's.  
>The president's daughter and the tribute ended up on the rooftops, overlooking the Capitol as the sun began to dip down. They had a few hours before it disappeared behind the mountains, and they sat down by the roof's edge to enjoy it. Cordelia let her chin rest on the wall as she crossed her arms in her lap.<p>

Misty watched her.

"I like it up here. It's quiet." The older blonde laughed lightly. "And there's literally no way you can jump off or fall off, so it's pretty safe."

"Why do I feel like you've tried?"

Cordelia turned to smile at her. "I didn't. I threw an apple first, to try and see what I'd look like when I reached the ground. It bounced back and hit me in the face."

"Forcefield?"

"Something like that." She tuckered down into herself and threw Misty a wry grin.

The wild blonde cleared her throat. "I like ya and all-"

"But?"

"But ya didn't say hi properly." Misty shrugged. "And here I thought the Capitol had manners."

The older woman cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Misty smiled and hesitantly leaned in to kiss Cordelia, her lips soft on the other blonde's. Fingers tangled in her hair and she grinned into the kiss as Cordelia replied easily.

"You're going to be the death of me, Misty Day."

"I think that's your job, actually." The wild blonde kissed her again, slowly this time, humming despite herself.

Cordelia pulled away to gaze into blue-green eyes.

"That's not how I meant it."

"I know, Mist. I know." The older blonde tugged her down to her again. She breathed against her. "Just forget about the Games. Forget about the world outside and just think of this moment. Us on this rooftop-"

"-With a vengeful apple-throwing forcefield."

Cordelia laughed breathlessly. "That too. Yeah. You don't hate me, do you?"

"I don't see how I could."

OOOoooOOO

"Come on, try again."

"People are staring, Misty."

"Let them. Think of the target, nothin' else."

Kyle Spencer nodded, breathing hard as a bead of sweat ran down his forehead. He lifted the bow in his hands again. "You know, I've never done this much exercise."

"I would never have guessed."

He ignored the quip. "I could always get a system running in this, get the accuracy up, maybe a fail safe target shot."

"Would ya have time to do that in the arena? The resources?"

He glanced back at the wild blonde. "I guess not."

"Shoot, Kyle."

He nodded and turned back to the target about twenty feet off, the wall behind it filled with protruding arrows. Missed shots. He bent his arm back and aligned his bow, breathing lightly as his muscles screamed. He flinched lightly as the arrow slipped past his ear and soared through the air. It hit the edge of the target and he turned to Misty, a full blown grin on his face.

"I got it!"

"Yeah, ya did. Try it a hundred more times and you'll get to the center. Maybe."

He frowned at her but picked up another arrow as she moved to stand besides David who was watching avidly.

"I tried, ya know?" He began, eyes on Kyle. "I tried shootin' and I almost impaled the girl from Ten."

"Well then it's not your thing."

"Then what is? Scorin' is in two days. I'm fuckin' screwed over here."

"Ya can climb real well."

"So?"

"So show that off. They might be partial to addin' trees or ledges if they see ya monkeyin' around." Misty shrugged. "And ya can make one hell of a bonfire."

"Great. Trees and fire."

"It's better than nothin'."

David nodded glumly as he followed Misty's gaze as she fixed the girl from Eight.

"I guess I can do that." He looked up. "I'll use the riggin'."

"Exactly. Try to camouflage too. If they can see ya still while they're watchin', you're screwed."

"I can do that. I used to sneak up on people in town all the time, ya know?"

"I know."

He paused and turned his dark eyes on her. "What was that?"

"What?"

"Ya know? What do ya mean ya know? Ya said ya didn't know me." He called after her as she began walking away. "Misty!"

But she ignored him as she broke from the little crowd that had gathered to watch Kyle shoot and made her way to Madison, leaning up against a wall with her hands in her pockets.

"Hey Seven." She smirked. "I see you've trained Three's pet to do something else than blow shit up."

Misty raised an eyebrow and the tribute from District One slumped her shoulders.

"Sorry. I guess I hit the whiskey too early this morning."

"Have ya hit anythin' else? Like trainin'?"

"No. I'm keeping myself a mystery, so these assholes don't hit me in the back with a well placed knife because they saw my moves out here." She narrowed her eyes. "You haven't been doing much training yourself either. You're just helping the others."

"A few days of extensive ax wielding won't save me now."

"Look at you, acting like a saint when in reality you're just saving your own ass. I like it."

"I really don't think I'll survive. And even if I do, I don't think I'd want to. A victor's life isn't all that great, is it?" Misty crossed her arms. "I don't know about your mentor, but Myrtle Snow is fucked up in the head."

Madison nodded slowly. "Yeah, ours is...interesting. Though I've heard that Four's demands to be called 'madame' all the time. I think she drank too much sea water."

"Madison."

The girl looked up, hazel eyes blurry. "Yeah?"

"Join the alliance."

The career laughed loudly, bitterly, threatening to start a coughing fit. "You're fucking crazy if you think I'll do that." She giggled. "If you think us making friendship bracelets and hanging out and drinking is going to change the Games, it's not." She picked up the bottle that she'd hidden behind her boots and began to walk away.

She glanced back at the wild blonde over her shoulder. "There's only one thing I'll promise you, Misty Day. I won't be the one stabbing you in the dark."

OOOoooOOO

Cordelia's fingers played with the edge of Misty's shirt and the wild blonde couldn't help the goosebumps that ran up her spine. She tilted her head down so that she could watch the older woman's mismatched eyes shine as she peeked at tanned skin, as she let her nails rake over her abdomen.

"You're not really respectful of art pieces, are ya? You're not supposed to touch." Misty teased, resting her head in her hand as she brought her elbow up to balance on it. She turned so that she could watch Cordelia properly, and they now lay facing each other in the tribute's bed.

The older blonde glanced up and grinned. "You think highly of yourself."

"Egocentric."

"Narcisstic."

Misty laughed and bent down to kiss the woman, her lips trailing down to catch Cordelia's jaw.

"Hank's wondering where I am right about now."

"Let him wonder." The wild blonde growled, securing her hold on the other's waist. She continued down to sharp collarbones and threatened to leave hickeys, but Cordelia pushed her off, giggling.

"Don't, I'll really get in trouble." She laughed softly. "I wear low shirts, silly."

"Can I go lower then? No one will see those if I do."

Cordelia opened her mouth, shocked, but just gasped out a bark of laughter as Misty grinned up at her, her hands running down a smooth stomach until she gripped at strong thighs. She brought the older blonde closer to her and placed a kiss against her chest.

Cordelia bit her lower lip. "You can."

"Hmm, what?"

"Go lower. If you want to." The older woman stammered over her words. "I mean, sorry, I-"

Misty pushed herself up the bed and stopped Cordelia from speaking anymore, her lips fitting easily to the woman's as her fingers hiked up her blouse.

OOOoooOOO

Madison had barely thrown a glance at Misty before she'd entered the training grounds, the metallic doors sliding shut behind her as she went before the gamemakers to be scored for the Games. And Misty squirmed in her seat, David frozen besides her.

She gave Kyle a broken smile as he was called an hour later, and he gave it back, an easy smile that radiated like a thousand suns, but it only made her feel slightly better.

David choked out a sob as he was called to begin the second half of District scorings, but a reassuring hug from Misty gave him enough of a mask to stop the tears from ever leaving his dark eyes, and he strode out onto the grounds head held high, already headed for the riggings, from what she could tell.

Ten minutes later, she was called.

She walked into the room, finding it rather empty, save for the weapons racks on the walls and the training dummies in the corners, and her eyes found the ax she'd been using during sessions, but she didn't immediately go to it.

Her blue-green eyes looked upwards until she was fixing the head gamemaker, the axeman, straight in the eyes, and he smirked back at her from the raised platform as she glared, inviting her. Next to him, Hank Foxx watched her, and she couldn't help the insurmountable want to scream up at him that Cordelia Goode had panted out her name until she couldn't anymore. But she held her tongue, held her spark.

She'd told herself that she'd sit down and not show them anything, she'd told herself that she'd fight the system, but now in the heat of the moment and with Foxx's eyes on her figure, she wanted to do nothing more than show what she was made of, to prove that she wasn't some hood rat that deserved to be drowned and wrung and thrown into a maze, even though she wasn't going to be. She just didn't deserve it.

She crossed to the ax in just a few steps and picked it up easily, finding the weight against her hands pleasant. She glanced around, unsure of what to begin hitting at, the dummies almost staring back from their positions. She glanced up at the gamemakers again, her fingers itching.

She dropped the ax on the ground with a loud _clang_ and grabbed at a dummy, wheeling it to the farthest part of the room. As she walked back, she picked up the weapon from the floor and clicked it open into two, letting the pieces dangle from her arms, inches from the marble she walked on. She squared down her target, thirty feet from where she was and flexed her fingers around the grips she held.

Her muscles were already screaming.

She took a step, then two, turned on herself and threw her first ax as she faced the front again, sending it over her head, not caring where it landed as she switched her last weapon to her right hand. She turned on herself again and threw that one sideways, past her hips, palms up, and watched it join its twin in the dummy, both embedding deep in its chest.

OOOoooOOO

"Alright settle down you two." Myrtle commanded, waving her hands at her tributes, begging them to sit down onto the couch. "Please, Misty, sit properly, like a lady. David, is the ice cream necessary?" The wild blonde tucked her feet beneath herself despite her demands, and the dark skinned boy raised an eyebrow as he dug down into his bowl again. The redhead sighed heavily as Quentin shrugged behind her. "Fine. Just watch then. You're lucky no cameras are watching your reactions, as uncouth as you two are."

David snorted from behind his spoon, and Misty nudged him slightly, warning in her blue-green eyes.

"Here we are, three days into training and the gamemaker's scoring has been officiated." Billie Dean blared on screen, her hair blinding the tributes as they watched silently. "I'd like to remember all who are watching that these scores will help many sponsors here in the Capitol make their choices on who'll they choose to save, if anyone. May I have the scores?" She was handed a stack of envelopes from offscreen and she let out a tight squeal as she excitedly picked up the first one.

"First, District One." She opened up the lip of the manila folder as the boy tribute's picture flashed up behind her. "Harrison Renard, a score of eight." She flipped the card. "Madison Montgomery, a score of, ooh, _eleven_."

Misty let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding in. She barely listened as the District Two tributes were called out, and leaned forward as Billie Dean held up an envelope with a three on it.

"Kyle Spencer, beautiful blonde from Three, with a score of, eight. Good job Kyle. As for his partner-"

"Eight is good." David murmured.

"It is." Misty nodded.

Both District Four tributes, Nan and Luke, received generous nines from the gamemakers.

"District Seven. David, lovely boy, with a score of, also, an eight."

Myrtle let out a happy cry of joy from behind them and rounded the couch to take the boy into her arm, pressing him to his chest, tears falling down her cheeks from behind her cat eye glasses. Misty ignored his cries of help as she stood and took a step closer to the television with baited breaths.

"District Seven, Misty Day, with a score of ten." The platinum blonde smiled and reached for a new envelope as David finally escaped Myrtle and sicced her onto the wild blonde, eyes wide as she watched a ten appear next to her picture.

"An eight and a ten, oh my lovelies, oh happy day!" The redhead gushed, her hands on David's cheeks again, pinching. "We can work with that." Next to her, Quentin nodded frantically. "Oh, we can work with that. I have calls to make!" She grabbed at her purse with clawed fingers and practically jogged out, the stylist hot on her tail.

The girl from Eight received a three that both tributes cringed at as they stayed to watch the rest of the scores. The black girl from Eleven, Queenie, received a six, and Bastien an eleven.

Misty shut off the program, Billie Dean's voice grating on her, and David shuffled on his feet, his spoon dangling from his mouth.

"This is good." He murmured, dark eyes glazed over. "Maybe I'll live." He let out a bark of laughter as he shook his head.

"I'm sure you will. I'm proud of ya."

He glanced up at Misty and blushed hard as he turned away.

OOOoooOOO

Cordelia had been watching Misty over her plate the entire farewell dinner, her black and blue eyes boring into the tribute's blue-green ones intensely. The wild blonde did her best to ignore the woman, but found her foot incessantly tapping randomly beneath the table, and she suffered through the looks that Madison (who'd decided to join them after all) and Kyle gave her as they sat across from her and David.

The tributes had been given the chance to sit where they wanted, this being their last night of friendship, and their newly formed alliances had quickly taken seats as far away from the gamemakers and the president as they could so that they could whisper amongst themselves, but for more than ten minutes, with their dinners becoming cold in front of them, Fiona Goode had been talking.

Misty barely listened, her breath hitching every time her eyes met Cordelia's across the room, her memories clouded with lust from all the time they'd spent together while no one was watching.

Dinner passed in a timeless blur, yet longer than eternity itself, with Kyle and David exchanging jokes across the table and Madison trying hard to get the wild blonde's attention, scowling when she failed to do so.

The plates were cleared away and the president stood to give one last toast to the tributes, her words blurred over by the fire coursing in Misty's veins, her gaze clear as she stared Cordelia down.

Her fellow fallen were led out of the room by the avox until only one remained, a tall man with long greasy hair and yellowing fingernails, but Cordelia nodded at him and he left after giving Misty a rather dirty look.

It was a miracle either of them had held out this long.

Fiona Goode's speech had left a tarnished mark on Misty's soul, even though she'd only half-listened, but it was now being steadily erased as all she could feel was Cordelia's mouth trailing down her stomach. The older blonde had cleared the dinner table, glasses and knives and forks falling to the floor in a clatter, and sprawled the wild blonde onto it, fingers grasping at her pants and throwing them back over her shoulder.

"I'm glad you went commando."

"Myrtle said it would leave panty lines if I didn't." Misty breathed back, fingers wound tight in blonde strands as Cordelia nipped at her hip.

"God bless Myrtle Snow."

Misty was about to retort but the president's daughter ripped a tight yelp out of her throat as she licked a long trail up her center. The tribute let out expletives and gasps and tightened her grip in the woman's hair, back arching off the stainless steel table beneath her. The first daughter didn't try to silence her.

OOOoooOOO

Misty fit her boots on and scrunched her toes in them, staring at them, trying to wrap her mind around everything going on, all the words that'd been thrown at her and all the information given to her last minute.

The shoes were steel tipped work boots, with hard soles and with grips, and she tried hard to think about what they could be for. Uniforms helped the tributes in the games, and she found herself hoping for a good mountain. She didn't know much, but she knew those.

She whipped her head up as the door opened, as her sanctuary was broken.

"Cordelia."

"Hi. Do you mind if I stay with you until you-? I'm not technically allowed to be here, since I'm Fiona's daughter, but-You don't mind if I stay, right?"

The wild blonde shook her head, throat dry. "No, no of course not." She laughed lightly as she reached for the warm jacket she'd been given as part as of her uniform. "Ya wouldn't know what to expect out of this arena, would ya?" She fitted her arms into the sleeves.

"No. And even if I did, I'd most likely get my tongue ripped out for telling you."

"David's cryin'."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Myrtle had to drag him out here. She's with him now, in the other room. Quentin wanted to stay with me, but honestly, he's not exactly the last person I'd want to spend my last free moments with."

"And I am?"

Misty looked away as she pulled her hair out of her collar.

"It was," Cordelia paused. "It was nice getting to know you, this past week." Misty smiled despite herself. "I'm sure if things had been different-"

"But they're not."

The older blonde looked away. "No. They're not."

"Promise me somethin'."

Cordelia glanced up, questions in her eyes.

"Have a good life, will ya? Do things you wouldn't have done otherwise. Get married and have kids and find a new love because Hank is an asshole. Have affairs. Stick it to your mother, be late to everythin'. Have fun." Misty took a small breath. "Do things I won't be able to do."

"Misty-"

"Promise me."

"Yeah." The president's daughter nodded with some difficulty. "Yeah okay."

The bell went off above them, and the countdown began, starting at thirty seconds. Misty moved past the older blonde and climbed into the tube designed for her. She turned into it to face out, to watch Cordelia stand rigidly across the glass. She pressed her palms to it, and Cordelia hesitated but a split second before bringing her own fingers up to mirror Misty's.

The cold voice above them counted down from ten.

"Misty."

The wild blonde tilted her head to the side, the woman's words muffled, yet clear.

"Goodbye."

And the last thing she saw were Cordelia's mismatched eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rated M**

**Headcanoned and beta-ed with graceonce**

**Word Count: **

Misty Day let her eyes adjust to the twilight, and she couldn't help the little gasps that escaped her throat as she glanced frantically around her. The glass tube protecting her slid away, and the wind was left to whip up, throwing sand into her eyes and flattening her jacket to her body.

She was on a unkempt lawn, her fellow tributes forming a circle with her at the head, her back to a grand Victorian home, and she let her blue-green eyes rake the faces before her.

David stood, slack, at the exact opposite of her, his dark eyes on hers as his body shook. Kyle was at his side, eyes wide, hair wild, and Madison, she couldn't find Madison in the darkness that permeated.

This was a first. It was always light when the Games began.

A booming voice that she knew well to be Hank Foxx's rang out above their heads. "_Tributes, on your marks, T-minus thirty seconds_." Large golden numbers appeared and the fallen held their breaths as he counted down.

In the middle of their tight knit circle was the cornucopia, smaller than usual, small enough that she could see over it, filled with glittering silver weapons, crates of food, water, and she watched David eye the pile dubiously. She tried hard to make eye contact, tried to make him remember the plan.

_Run._

Hank's computerized voice reached ten, and she watched as the trained around her bent down into ready positions, their muscles taut with rage and hate written in their features.

Friendships didn't matter anymore. Not here, not now. A fleeting thought passed through her head and she pushed it away at the first flash of golden hair. She didn't have time for this, not with her life on the line.

She was going to die, but she'd fight for it. She'd give them the show they wanted.

She kneeled down onto her silver pad, already planning her escape route, already planning to run around the others, to escape the bloodbath.

Three. Two. One.

A yell was ripped out of a tribute as he rushed forward, a cry that made her insides churn and she wanted to hurl but she was already running, her jacket whipping up behind her as she grabbed for Kyle, nearest to her, and pushed him towards the edge of the clearing, practically throwing him there as she turned back to grab at David.

She whipped her head back and forth. The dark skinned boy was gone. She evaded the girl from Six easily, side stepping her and the knives she'd gotten from the pile a few feet away. She threw her leg out and tripped her down, using her falling body to propel herself over a dead tribute, an arrow sticking out his back.

"_David_!" She yelled out into the shadows.

The wild blonde let out a tight gasp as Bastien came barreling towards her, a double handed hammer in one solitary hand, swinging it around like a madman. She watched as he hit a boy she didn't know and cringed as she heard the breaking of bones, the sickening crunch of death. She rolled out of his way as she broke through the circle and began running for whatever lay outside the property, a pack of food on his back.

She scrambled to her feet, sliding on the ground - was it muddy? - her hands out in front of her to keep her from falling to her knees as she ran back to the cornucopia. She looked up as her name was called.  
>David stood on top of the metal contraption triumphantly, his hand held high, his grip around the double edged ax. She reached up into the air, begging him to come down, ready to catch him if he slipped on the smooth corners. He knelt down on his knees and sprang into the air powerfully, headed for her and her outstretched arms.<p>

His body suddenly went slack in the air, he lost control as his dark eyes grew wide and Misty fell underneath him, breaking his fall.

"David, David get up!" She stammered.

He didn't answer.

She grabbed at him with a growl and hoisted him up onto her shoulders with the carry the training instructors had taught them, her free hand finding the ax on the ground, and she began running as best as she could, slowed down by his limp body as she jumped the same dead boy she'd jumped before. She ran out onto a deserted street, trying her hardest to ignore the yells and screams permeating behind her. She skidded to the left as Kyle joined her side, running as fast as his legs and lungs would allow, his hair matted against his forehead.

She faltered as the blond haired boy tripped, but kept going, knowing he'd catch up as soon as he was on his feet. She heard the patter of his boots on the concrete seconds later, his breathing halted and heavy. She glanced back momentarily at him and tried to ignore the blood running down his neck.

They rounded a corner together and slid against a tree, Kyle barrelling into Misty and falling to her side as they scrambled to hide beneath the brush against it.

"Madison?"

"No idea."

"We have to keep goin'."

He nodded heavily, his arm thrown over David as he glanced around furtively. "Where the hell are we?"

"No time. Help me." She stood up again, baring her teeth as she buckled beneath David's weight. Kyle grabbed at his arm and helped her cross the street and into deeper shadows. He paused after a moment, and she turned to stare him down. "What are you doin'? Keep walkin'!"

"Misty, Misty no."

"Kyle-?"

He swallowed with some difficulty and let David fall as he dropped to his own knees, the dark skinned boy resting against him. Tears began falling down his face, mixing with his saliva. "Misty we have to leave him."

"I'm not fuckin' leavin' him." She growled, grabbing at the boy.

"Misty he's _dead_!" Kyle yelled. He held up his hands, covered with blood running down his arms, black in the darkness.

"We can save him, come on get up!"

Kyle screamed now, her name ringing out into the night, almost enough to drown out the screams behind them. "_He's dead_!"

She fell to her knees besides him, her body wracked with sobs as her fingers grasped onto David's shirt, bringing him closer to her. Kyle watched, death in his black eyes. "Misty we have to keep going." He stood shakily as another yell rang out from the cornucopia. "We're not far enough. Please, please leave him-" He hoisted her up, ignoring her sharp cries. "You can't leave me too come on _please_."

She pushed him off angrily and began to drag David to her again, but he hit her in the chest, pulling her off. She opened her mouth but he slammed into her again, pushing her back and she tripped against him. He kept shoving, his hand having closed onto her ax moments before and he hit her one last time, tears falling down his own cheeks as he let out little "go"s incessantly, trying to get her moving.

She finally nodded, her fingers closing around his wrist and she began walking, breaking into a run seconds later as she struggled to get away from the bloodbath but fifty feet away, as she tried to get away from David's lifeless eyes, staring up at her.

She felt a burn in her throat and had to fight the urge to vomit as Kyle tugged on her now, encouraging her.

The wild blonde didn't know how, but they ended up going down a streetlight lit way and in an abandoned building, rotten at its edges. Kyle pulled her all the way to the roof, wanting a good view for the morning that was to come, for the tributes that might try creeping up on them.  
>Misty didn't care.<p>

She curled up against Kyle underneath the Capitol blue lined skies and cried.

OOOoooOOO

Morning didn't come.

But the canons did.  
>It rang out eleven times, and Kyle and her watched with some difficulty as the names and pictures of each tribute was given out while Panem's national anthem played with a certain gusto that Misty didn't feel.<p>

No tears came to her as David's sweet, smiling face looked down on them.

She crawled to the edge of the rooftop as the grids above them died out. Her voice was hoarse. "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Kyle admitted. "All I know is that it's been night forever and we can't see much. I wasn't able to grab a flashlight, even though there were quite a few. For this reason, I'm guessing."

She glanced back at him.

"Eternal twilight." He explained. "All we have is your weapon, Misty. We have to go back to get food, or something."

"Are ya crazy?" She mumbled. "The careers will be waitin' to gut us."  
>He joined her at the edge and overlooked the arena with her, chewing on his bottom lip.<p>

They'd landed in some sort of city, the horizons murky, the buildings crumbling. It was a grid like pattern, with straight edges but with plenty of places to hide, and Misty couldn't help but wonder how the twenty-four, _thirteen_, of them would find each other in this maze to continue the Games. She wondered how long they'd take to play out.

From where they were, they could see the cornucopia glistening three streets off, nestled in the grasses of the white home they'd seen when they'd first come up. She let her fingers tighten on the ax by her side.

"I don't even know who got him."

"Misty?"

She turned away and let herself slump against the short wall. "We need a plan. We can't stay here. Other tributes will try and get to the cornucopia and we need to be gone when they do." She paused. "Do ya see the water to the left?" Kyle turned to look where she'd mentioned.

"Yeah."

"We'll go there. There's probably food, and even if there's not, water is better than nothin'."

"What if it's salty?"

"It's still farther than here."

He sat down next to her. "I'm waiting for you to say we'll wait for morning."

"Shouldn't we?"

The boy sighed and pointed up to the skies. "It's all artificial. I've seen it before, I've worked on it. The sun isn't programmed in this code, it's going to be dark. The entire time." He glanced sideways at her. "We need a light, Misty."

"We're not goin' back." She snapped.

"Fine. Fine. I'll, uh," He stood and ruffled his hair. "I'll have a look through this building, see if I can find some wiring, maybe a battery, a lightbulb?" He wrung his hands together. "Maybe I can fashion something. Hell, chemicals would be just as good."

"Okay."

He looked down at her, and couldn't help the look of pity that overtook him. He knelt down besides the girl and took her hands in his. "I'm sorry."

"Does it matter if ya are or not?"

"I'll go look for wiring."

"Ya do that."

He nodded painfully, staring at her for a few more moments before leaving her, throwing a "be safe" over his shoulder, that she returned quietly.

She turned back on herself to stare out across the city, careful to not poke out more of her body than she could, afraid to be shot down. She watched as the cornucopia now glistened with lights reflecting from the home behind it. Someone had taken residence in it, and didn't care who noticed.

She bit her lower lip, wishing she knew who was hiding out in it, wishing she knew where Madison was too. Maybe it was her. She had half a mind to find out. At least she'd be taken out of the Games.

She glanced back as Kyle slinked back to her. "Look what I found." He sat down next to her. "Luminescence." He held out a few hollow sticks to the girl.

"They're not on."

"Well, not yet. This is basic chemistry." He waved one at her. "You crack them and they light up, I won't take the time to explain. But don't do it now. We don't know who's watching."

They both whipped their heads up as a scream rang out through the city and scrambled to the edge of the crumbling roof, looking over. The sound was followed by another loud yell, torn from a throat.

"Does that sound like-"

"-Anyone you know?"

They glanced at each other.

"No canon." Kyle breathed out, frightened.

"We need to go. Soon." Misty whispered. "Now. We're sitting ducks. Buildings fall and things can be thrown."

Kyle let his gaze wander to the water's edge, five or six streets off, across an expanse of grass. "We'll get spotted in those fields."

"We'll crawl if we have to. We can't stay if we want to live past the second twenty four hours."

He swallowed visibly. "Okay. Okay I'll have one more look through this place while we go down, just in case. And then we can go." He glanced down at the ax in her hands. "I know it's yours and all, and that I can't swing to save my life, but..." He trailed off.

She unclicked her weapon and gave him a half. He took it gingerly and nodded in thanks.

"Don't stab me in the back." She warned. "I will get ya."

"I hadn't even thought of that." He admitted.

They stood, backs bent, and made their way to the service stairs, doing their best to keep the metal steps from creaking underneath them. Kyle's voice was soft.

"I'm wondering, do you think they made this arena from scratch, or is it an actual city that's been abandoned?"

She glanced back at him, unable and unwilling to answer, and he took that as enough of a response.

They moved silently through the expense and eternity of night, Kyle hiding in Misty's shadows, headed as far from the cornucopia as they could muster, the mansion's lights backdropping them. They stuck to the sidewalks, their bodies pressed against the walls of crumbling foundations, their breathing halted.

The streets were deserted, as they would be when only a handful of tributes roamed an arena as extensive as the one they were in, but still Misty kept a sharp lookout, hopelessly wishing for a map, or a radar, or _something_ that could keep at least Kyle alive, if anyone.

It took almost ten minutes to reach the outskirts of the city, a sea of dark green grass before them, and Misty took the time to turn and crouch low in the tall grasses to scope out if anyone had followed as Kyle kept walking, ax held high in front of him, his grip wavering under the heavy weapon. She followed after a minute later, somewhat satisfied with the eerie silence.

They walked in a tight bond, circling around themselves every few dozen feet, eyes wide in the darkness, both breathing as lightly as they could in the current circumstances.

Kyle suddenly yelled as he jumped and fell against Misty, his scream piercing and she grabbed at him and slapped her hand across his mouth, tripping him to the ground.

The tributes from District Four stood but a few feet from them, staring back, equally mortified.

"Please don't do anything rash." The boy tribute said, his hands up in surrender. "We have nothing."

Misty let go of Kyle and he fell, and scrambled to put distance between him and the fishers. The wild blonde's grip tightened on her ax.

"Prove it."

"We have literally _nothing_." He pleaded, holding his arms out wide. Besides him, the girl did the same, shaking from head to toe.

"I want ya to run."

"What?"

"Luke, right?"

The young man nodded his head violently.

"Ya run, Luke. Ya take Nan and ya turn around and ya run before I throw this thing and rip your guts out. I'm letting ya live, and I'm giving you thirty seconds."

He stared openly for a few moments before finally springing to action, grabbing Nan's hand as they both began to run towards the other edge of the grasses. They disappeared into the darkness, and their footsteps echoed and finally died.

"You let them go!" Kyle gasped out. "What are you doing? You let them go!"

"I'm not gonna kill anyone who hasn't done nothin' to me. Get up." Misty growled.

"They know where we are, they could kill us!"

"Nan look like a killer to ya?"

The blonde boy fell silent as he struggled to his feet, his black eyes unsure.

"Now shut the fuck up. I don't want anyone _else_ finding us. Come on." She tugged on his arm until he followed of his own volition.

The grasses became taller as they began wading inches high in what seemed like thick water, most likely mud. It reached their knees quickly enough and Kyle began to grimace at the feeling of it plastering to his pants, but it didn't bother Misty as she watched behind them for the tributes from Four.

She wasn't confident that they wouldn't attack.

She could hear Kyle breathing hard a few feet ahead, and she turned to him in the darkness. He seemed to notice as he too faced her, his hair the only thing she could outline along with his bright black eyes.

"Misty. Misty I can't see where I'm walking, this is dangerous." He whined softly.

"We're out far enough, I guess. Crack one of your lights."

She thought she saw him nod thankfully as he rustled in his pockets for the sticks he'd picked up an hour before, hands trembling. He cracked one over his thigh and shook it violently as he kneeled down, knees sloshing in the mud. It began to glow a comforting blue and she came closer to him, bending down besides him to shield the light from the city.

"How long will it last?"

"Three, four hours of good light. Then it'll start getting dimmer."

"How many did ya find?"

He glanced up at her. "I've got four left."

"Well shit."

He looked away, blinking rapidly.

"Ya should get some sleep." She finally said. She worked at removing her jacket. "Sleep on this, ya won't get wet then."

"Misty, it might get cold."

"I'll walk around if it does."

"Wake me up soon, we can trade off." He took the jacket, crumpled it into a makeshift pillow, and curled up on himself. His voice was soft and she had to strain to hear him.

"Misty?"

"Yeah."

"Please don't kill me."

OOOoooOOO

She woke him when the light began to go out, her hand on his back and shaking lightly. He awoke with a start and she had to hold him down as he thrashed weakly for a split second. He looked up at her, black eyes wide, before settling down with a sharp sigh. "It's you."

"Who else would it be?"

He glanced around, his eyes on the horizon, where Nan and Luke had run hours before. "It could have been anyone."

"They're not comin' back."

"So you think." He sat up, groaning. "I can't help but feel bad for them."

"Who, District Four?"

"Yeah. They like each other. And only one can live. That's horrible." He slumped his shoulders. "Imagine having to live with the knowledge that you helped kill your loved ones." He shifted underneath her blue-green gaze. "Sorry."

"What for."

"David."

She looked away, breathing even. "He wasn't meant to win."

"You, uh," He paused, unsure of his words. "Maybe you should sleep too. You're probably going to say that you don't need to, but you should. Even if you don't physically sleep, you should at least rest. That ax is going to get mighty heavy if you don't."

She nodded at him.

"And then maybe we can talk about a survival plan. Because this is nice and all but one of us is bound to get sick, with all this water. And we need food, and I'm not sure how hunting in the dark is going to work out. Especially with fish." He jutted his chin at the deepening waters, a hundred feet off.

"We can always try."

"Yeah." He gave her her jacket back and she tugged it on as he took his own off and made a small lump out of it, handing that to her too. "That's another thing we need too, light. We'll have to find more of these things, there's going to be some around somewhere. It's not random that they're here." He sat his knee up and broke a new glow stick over it, the light washing over them in a wave of relief in the eternal darkness. He glanced down at her. "Sleep, Misty. I'll keep an eye out."

The wild blonde laid her head down and she watched the blue light up the black as she succumbed to sleep.

It reminded her of Cordelia's mismatched eyes.

OOOoooOOO

A canon woke her and she scrambled to find Kyle in the blackness of the arena, his hands finding hers first.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." He assured her, petting awkwardly at her forearm. "But someone isn't."

"Did it sound far off?"

"Everything echoes around here. I have no idea."

She struggled to stand. "Where'd the light go?"

"A fire went up an hour ago, I stuck it in my pockets, I didn't want us to be found."

"A fire?" She looked into the horizon, finding nothing.

"They doused it, whoever they are." He paused. "I just didn't want to risk anything. I guess they didn't want to either."

"Good thinkin'. But ya should have woken me."

Kyle bit his lower lip. "You were muttering in your sleep, and sometimes dreams lead you to answers. I didn't want to wake you during a chase to your absolute truths." He looked away, his voice suddenly soft. "That's what my mother used to say to me, anyway."

"I don't have time to chase anythin', not here."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll wake you next time." He took his jacket from her outstretched hands and slipped it on, fighting a shiver. "We need shelter, you can't deny that."

"I don't want to head back in there. At best we can outlive everyone if we stay here."

"And then what?"

"And then I conveniently trip to my death."

"Misty."

"Listen, Kyle, I have no family waitin' for me on the other side. No one cares about me."

His eyes were sad. "No one?"

"She," Misty looked away. "I don't think she cares about me as much as I do her. And even then, she's taken."

"Oh."

"So whatever happens, ya live. Got it?"

"I don't want to."

"Ya do what I fuckin' tell ya to do, and that's it." She rose, hissing in the dark. "I made the promise that I'd keep ya three alive. Maybe I can keep my promise on one of ya."

"Don't do that to yourself. It's not your fault." He was suddenly whispering. "It's the Capitol's. They're all horrible, horrible people, and it's _not your fault._"

She didn't answer him, throwing him his jacket instead. She sloshed around in the mud, frowning deeply. "Does the water seem higher to ya?"

"You've been hunkered down in it for an hour or two, you moved the mud around."

"Yeah, okay." But her scowl didn't leave her face.

"Can I be honest?"

She turned to him and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"I'm hungry."

Misty took a moment to answer. "I wasn't able to grab anythin', I was lookin' for ya and David and Madison-"

"I'm not blaming you. I'm just saying, I'm hungry."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." Kyle looked away, passing his hand through his messy curls. "Do you fish?"

She gazed him over and let her eyes slip to the horizon. "I know I said I'd try. So I will. Pass me my ax."

The shaggy haired boy reached for her weapon at his side and gingerly handed it to her, piece by piece. She snapped it back into place easily, satisfied with the click it emitted, and slung it over her shoulder. "Are ya gonna come with me?"

"I should keep an eye on the stuff."

She stared him down. "I'm gonna need a light."

"Oh. Oh right." He glanced himself over, his hands patting at his pockets. "Do you want another stick?"

"I wouldn't want to waste one."

"Then take it. I'll just wait here."

"In the dark?"

Kyle paused, mulling his thoughts over. "I'll come then."

OOOoooOOO

"God_damn_ it." Misty cursed loudly into the twilight, throwing her ax down into the thigh high water. It landed with a rather disappointing splash and floated momentarily before dying into the darkness. Kyle watched her from a nearby island, his hands crossed over his chest, shivering so loudly the wild blonde could hear his teeth chattering from where she was. "They're so _fuckin_' fast you'd think they were on _fuckin_' drugs."

Kyle shook his head, unable to find something to say to her.

"I hope your stomach can wait."

"Just take your time, don't worry too much, please." The boy begged.

"I'm gonna fuckin' skewer one of these and eat it in front of its fuckin' friends. Little sons of bitches."

"Please keep the frustration at bay, Misty."

"I swear on President Goode's head that I will find ya a fish, Kyle."

"I'm really not that hungry, actually."

Misty glanced up at him. "Don't lie to me."

"Let's just go back to camp."

The wild blonde reached back for her ax, dipping her arm to her elbow in black water. "You're eatin' like a king tonight, Kyle." She became quiet and waited, her arm over shoulder, ax ready to strike, her muscles paused.

She threw her arm forward as a shadow slithered by, and the ax came down and struck the sandy ground, breaking through surface tension. She let out a groan of rage as the animal kept on swimming, untouched. Behind her, Kyle cringed.

"I swear to ya, Kyle."

"Misty. Stop. You're probably right, they're too fast. It's probably steroids, it's an arena after all."

The District Seven tribute turned to watch him. "You're lettin' me give up. I don't like that."

"It's not giving up. It's just not working. You have to admit that."

She let out an intangible string of curses and reached for the middle of her ax, springing it out of the hole it'd made. She paused, feeling it heavier than before, and reached for the stick they'd let float on the waters, bringing it closer for more light.

"Hey, techno boy. Get over here."

Kyle did as he was told, ignoring the quip, and waded to her side. "What is that?"

She slung the weapon over her shoulder, reaching for the end that'd sat in the waters, and pried the object off its sharp ends. She handed it to Kyle, whatever it was, and gazed him over, waiting for a verdict.

"Goggles."

"What?"

"Like, binoculars. But there's no concave, or convex lenses. They're just normal. You broke one."

"Sorry."

He shook his head, fingering the goggles gingerly. He held them up to his dark eyes, and suddenly grinned. "Holy shit, Misty."

"What?"

"They're night vision goggles. You found a treasure."

"You're kiddin' me." She reached for them and passed them over her own face. He'd been right, the ax had broken one of the lenses and so she could only see out of the right eye, but she could see alright. Every was in shades of green, but she could the wind passing over the grasses and she could see the city in the distance." "Fuckin' Christ."

"This is amazing. We're golden with this!" Kyle whispered hurriedly at her. "We can keep tributes in sight, we can survive."

She breathed out, letting her arms fall limply to her side. "Damn."

He suddenly hugged her side, her ribs threatening to bruise beneath his grip.

"I can look for fish properly now."

OOOoooOOO

Misty awoke, choking on muddy water, the bottom half of her face covered in the stuff. She coughed loudly, wiping at her chin and her eyes frantically as she struggled to sit up. Her front too was covered, the entirety of it. She glanced around and found Kyle lying on his back, snoring softly, his golden curls black with mud.

She shook him awake. "Hunkered down my ass!"

"What, _what_?" He bolted upright, fingers reaching for something that wasn't there. He immediately grimaced as his back dripped down, his hair matted to the nape of his head. "What's going on?"

"Water's risin'."

He whimpered. "Shit. I'm dripping." He looked up at her and his frown deepened as he noticed the traces of black smudged on her face. "This isn't good. This really isn't good."

"Get up. We have to go back."

"Are you crazy? We'll get killed!" He hissed.

"We've got the goggles, we're in better shape than the others."

"You moved us out here in the first place, now you want to go back?"

She rounded on him. "I haven't been able to get food, ya don't have anything to fight with, and the waters are risin'. We can't stay."

He raised his voice as he began to argue, cold and wet and hysterical, but she wasn't listening to him anymore as she let her eyes rake the ground. Over his voice was the sound of running water, like a little babbling brook, nothing more.

"Be quiet."

"What? Be quiet? Is that how you tell-"

"_Shut up_."

The boy paused, rage on his face, but he listened as she perked up, turning her head this way and that. He looked where she was going, freezing. "Is that the sound of, of water...? This is a swamp. That's not normal."

She grabbed at the goggles she'd left on the loop of her pants and brought them to her face, staring through the working lense.

"Run."

He glanced sideways at her. "What?"

"Fuckin' run." She grabbed at his back and began pushing him, his feet splashing as he stumbled forward. He suddenly broke into a sprint as she caught up to him, doing his best to keep up. The tribute spared a look back across his shoulder, and in the eternal twilight could easily tell what the shapes in the darkness consisted of.

Waves upon waves of black water, ten feet high, a massive wall headed straight for them.

They ran as fast as they could, but Misty tripped as soon as the first tendrils of water hit her heels, and she stumbled over herself as the wave took over, taking her along with it, Kyle sputtering besides her. She felt a tug on her ax and spied a mop of blonde hair before she was brought down into the black tsunami, curling up on herself as they were ripped from side to side.

She didn't know how long it took, just knew her lungs were beginning to burn as she tried hard to break through the surface, pulled back and pushed forward as she was.

Her body hit a wall, hard, and she gasped out, the last of her air dissipating into the water around her. She kicked at it, pushing herself to wherever she thought up was, and finally broke through, sputtering and gasping before she was pushed back by another wave, slammed into the bricks behind her. She broke again, hair in her face, and grabbed at a loose edge, pulling herself up to hoist herself out of the water.

She tugged on her ax frantically, amazed as an after-thought that she'd kept her hold on it, and let out a slight yelp as Kyle slammed into her, his hands around the other end. She pulled him up by his collar and helped him grab onto the ledge.

Another wave buffeted into them and they froze as it passed, flattening their bodies against the wall. Finally, the waters around them stilled, waist high.

Misty let out a little grunt, a question in her voice, and Kyle nodded back quickly, hair wild. She dropped to the ground as her arms gave out along with the rest of her, splashing into the tide. Besides her, the District Three tribute did the same, breathing heavily and pushing water out of his eyes. The wild blonde held her ax up in defense, blue-green eyes darting around as she scanned their environments.

They'd been pushed back all the way into the city, through its streets and barreled against where they'd started, the cornucopia and its white Victorian home.

Its window were dark, the lawn was, apart from the flood, otherwise empty, little parcels floating on the dark surface. She watched Kyle reach over to one and hold it up, water dripping from its corners.

"Spoiled." He said quietly. "They all are."

"Do ya think anyone's inside."

"We'd have been annihilated if that was the case."

"Go in. I'll close."

He nodded and began wading towards the stairs, now covered to the top step. He found them rather easily and climbed them, reaching for the doorknob as silently as he could. He opened the door and waited for her to climb up after him, her eyes on the shadows on the edge of the property. They let the door squeak shut behind them, and turned to analyze the house.

It was bare, save for two or three pieces of furniture. The walls were peeling with paint, the light fixtures on the walls were gone or broken, and it smelled of dead animal. Rotting flesh. There was a second floor, but the stairs looked far from safe, illuminated by a dying chandelier above it, throwing long shadows across the floors.

They both turned and froze as a canon rang out above them, echoing through the wet wood, and Kyle cringed. "I guess we're lucky."

"And I guess someone got a random brick against their head. Or a metal pole through their stomach." Misty mumbled back. She reached up to her face and scratched, trying hard to ignore the prickling feeling under her skin as she ripped her hand away from her cheek. "Come on. Maybe there's food around here, or somethin'."

He nodded and followed her as she walked into what looked like the dining room, her eyes on the windows and on the house adjacent to theirs. She stopped him with a hand to his chest, her eyes on the figures behind the other mansion's curtains. Her voice was a hiss. "District Eleven."

"You sure?"

"When's the last time ya saw a six foot five strongman with a girl bigger than the both of us put together."

"Oh."

She reached up to their own curtains, tattered and falling to pieces, and closed them against the other tributes. "I guess they were pushed back here too, by the water." Kyle rose his shoulders and let them fall in the semblance of a shrug. The wild blonde led him to the kitchen and they both began to raid the shelves and the fridge, wading through inches of water that'd come in through the open door. Misty kicked it shut. She watched Kyle from the corner of her eye as he went rustling through the back room.

She jumped as he screamed, running backwards and away from the door he'd just opened, a body falling limp onto the floor with a dull thud. Its limbs were curled and its mouth was open in a silent scream, its skin covered in horrible warts and burns, its eyes stripped to a cloudy ice blue.

Misty clamped her hand over Kyle's mouth as he continued to wriggle against her, black eyes wide at the decomposing body that'd been previously slumped against the door. She shushed him as best as she could, and it took him a few seconds before he became a whimpering mess in her arms, ripping away to vomit in the sink. The wild blonde glanced at him as she stepped towards the body. It'd been a girl, once upon a time, and her uniform held the number eight.

And she was definitely dead. Misty wondered how long ago the canon had rung for her.

Kyle stumbled to the door and walked outside despite the danger, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped as he sat down on the back steps. He shuddered in a breath as Misty sat by him, eyes on the tall waters and the house across from theirs. The blond boy sniffed and leaned back, tears in his eyes.

"I can't believe the District Eight girl is dead. That she's _been_ dead." Kyle said softly, eyes up on the sky. "I didn't even know her name."

"Zoe." Misty replied. "It was Zoe."

OOOoooOOO

"I wanna leave soon. I don't want to stay too long, if we know District Eleven is out there, then they know we're here." Misty turned away from the window where she'd pulled the curtains aside, and frowned at Kyle. "Ya hear me?"

"I heard you."

"What are you doin'?"

He shrugged as he continued tinkering at the dinner table. "I found some old cables, and some working lightbulbs. Or at least, I think they work, they're not burnt out. I don't know."

"And?"

"And there was a generator in that backpack you brought back from the cornucopia yesterday." He let his shoulders fall again. "I'm just seeing if I can make these work."

She nodded at him. "Good idea." He smiled softly at her, the first hint of hope since finding Zoe.

She watched him play around with the frayed wires for hours, wondering if his eyes hurt as he worked in semi-darkness, the only source of light from the hallway, from the broken staircases. He occasionally muttered to himself, drawing plans on the table with a white rock that he'd found in the house's rubble. Circles and lines and what he said were open and closed circuits. Notes. She fetched him what food she could, soggy bread they'd left out to dry that hadn't molded yet and teeth breaking crackers. He ate silently, grumbling around the crumbs as the generator sparked angrily at him, as he tamed it.

The twilight had fallen completely when he roused Misty from her bouts of fitful sleeping, dangling a string of lights into her face, a wide grin on his own as she stared openly.

"They work."

"Yeah, yeah they do." He answered breathlessly. "I can't believe it but it does."

"You're a genius, District Three."

He blushed deeply as he accepted the compliment, fingers tightening around the cables. "We can go now, we won't run into anything."

She nodded as she stood and reached for the ax she'd laid on the floor by the couch she'd found and pushed into the room. He stepped back and watched her carefully, the lights to his chest.

"We're not going to have too much trouble with the water, I capped the ends, they can take some moisture. Of course we can't just drop them in there, but there's not _too_ much risk." He added, scratching his face. " And I made them into necklaces of sorts, they're paired, so that we don't lose each other. Like mountain climbers, you know?"

She nodded, although she didn't really.

"I just ate, so when you're ready-"

"I'm not hungry." Misty shook her head as she tucked her shirt into her pants. "And anyway, we gotta ration."

"We already have. You haven't eaten your share yet."

She glanced at him sideways and he looked away. "Alright, let's go. Come on." She took the cables he handed to her, five little lightbulbs attached to the wires and shining brightly, and let it dangle around her neck. Kyle did the same with his half and strapped the backpack she'd found around his shoulders. tightening the straps until they were crinkling his jacket.

"If you hold on to the ax, I'll hold on to the generator." The boy offered.

"Then I'll take the lead."

They'd already looked the mansion up and down, and everything they'd salvaged fit into the bag the two tributes owned. It wasn't much, and they had no choice but to move, with impeding starvation and the killers across the fence. Misty opened the front door, Kyle a few feet behind her (he'd cut some slack with his cables) and paused.

It began to rain as the wild blonde raked her blue-green eyes over the flooded lawn, and the District Three boy let out a little gasp, watching the water falling from the sky hit the city, and suddenly evaporate in plumes of smoke. A fog rose.

"What the hell is that."

"Rain."

"Misty."

She glanced back, but didn't have a real answer for him. She stepped out fully, looking around furtively, knuckles white around her weapon.

She hissed suddenly as her skin began to prickle and burn as droplets of water fell from the sky and onto her bare flesh, and she pushed Kyle back underneath the patio. "Fuck." She cursed in a string, the ax almost leaving her hand as she threw a small fit, her head hanging. "It's acid rain, Kyle. Fuckin' acid rain." She looked up and yelled out. "_Bastards_!"

"Misty, Misty please. We'll be spotted." He pulled on her arm and closed the door behind her, helping her with the lightbulbs around her neck before she got the idea to jerk them off and throw them down angrily. "Let me see your hands."

She gave them to him, blue-green eyes hard.

"I don't have anything that could fix this. Try not to itch or scratch."

"I know."

"I'm just saying. You're rubbing at your face right now."

She froze, her shoulder against the bottom of her jaw and her head angled away from him.

"Did you get bit by a bug or something?"

She shook her head no and moved to stand tall above him. "We'll wait till the rain stops."

"You think it will?"

She shrugged. "I'm hoping so."

"Misty, I have an idea, can I try it? It's for safety."

The wild blonde let her shoulders fall again. "Do what ya want, as long as ya don't leave the house." He nodded, smiled, and walked into a different room.

OOOoooOOO

"They're leavin'."

Kyle nodded from a few feet away, on the other side of the window, both hiding behind the curtains. Misty shifted to look outside again, her eyes on the two figures standing outside on the neighboring house's patio.

Bastien held a large sword and he'd given the flashlight to Queenie, who was shining it around furtively, looking for dangers in the dark. They weren't being exactly silent, and Misty's gaze left them for a split second to watch the house across the street, its windows lit with shadows that, too, watched the tributes from District Eleven.

"They're gonna walk on it."

"I don't know, Kyle."

"I think they will."

The wild blonde looked him up and down. "That thirsty for blood?"

"Bastien's a huge motherfucker, pardon my language, and I'd rather not meet him out there."

Misty bit back a laugh as she reached down to scratch at her hand. She paused. "Do ya hear that."

He nodded. "They barked for hours on the southern side of the house, while I was working. Dogs." He paused. "But there's more mouths than bodies."

"What are ya sayin'."

"I'm saying that there's more mouths than bodies." He shook his head. "I couldn't see them well, they ran fast. But I'm thinking two headed. You know that canon that rung out a few hours ago?" Misty blinked. "I think I saw one of the mutts with an arm in its jaws. Jaws." They both paused as he winced and his stomach rung out in hungry grumbles. "Sorry."

"Maybe the mutts should share."

He sighed.

"Oh. Oh quiet." She pushed him back behind the wall as Queenie's flashlight ran past their window, illuminating the mansion. They listened to them shuffle around, and finally Bastien stepped down from the balcony and into the water, thigh high for him. Queenie sunk down to her waist.

"Please. Please, please, please." Kyle whispered from his corner, dark eyes on the couple. Misty held her breath. Bastien shifted through debris, sword above the water as he waded with some difficulty. He paused as he moved away brush and boxes and suddenly, he tensed.

The night was alight with his screams as he shook and trembled and as sparks flew from where he stood, his fingers unable to let go of the cable he'd picked up. Misty was sure she could see smoke rising from his mouth.

He fell into the water, sinking below the surface, the waters around him crinkling and lighting with electricity.

And the canon rung out.

Kyle's fingers were tight on Misty's elbow as Queenie took up her partner's screams, as she ran back inside, scrambling up the steps.

The dogs were on her in less than a minute, two headed or stumped, with legs missing or with an extra limb, barking wildly and attracted by the sudden noises. They scuffed up behind her and into the house, claws marking the wooden floors as they searched for her, her cries urging them on.

Misty and Kyle fell back as one hit their window with its snout, growling and snapping angrily. It turned and swam and ran across the property, following its pack, and the two tributes listened to flesh being teared, the noise echoing through the twilight. The second canon in as many minutes boomed.

The wild blonde shook Kyle off, his nails leaving deep marks in her skin. "You're a genius, Kyle." He nodded silently, his eyes fixed on where the young man had dropped. He was shaking from head to toe, and she felt her heart ache and she wanted to reach for him, but chose against it. "Come on." He fell away from the window and followed her to the chairs, sitting down heavily as he scratched at his face, his nails leaving red marks.

"You're scratchin' so hard you're makin' scabs. Ya okay?"

"I just killed someone."

"Yeah."

"I," He paused, voice shaking. "I _killed_ someone."

"Kyle-"

"I just, I just didn't think I would. I didn't think I ever would. Oh god."

The boy didn't sleep well later that night, moving around as the national anthem played above him and as pictures flashed across the sky. His skin reddened as he continued to scratch endlessly, his flesh breaking out in hives and ezcema from what Misty guessed was stress. But as she dozed off herself, she watched herself unconsciously scratch at her own skin, bumps breaking out over her hands and spots running over her hips.

Her blue-green eyes were fixed on the back door in the kitchen, where Zoe's body had been, and as she listened to Kyle whimper in his sleep, she began to wonder.

OOOoooOOO

"Kyle, ya gotta breathe. Kyle, are ya listenin' to me?"

The boy shook beneath her as she smoothed out his hair as best as she could, a cold sweat enveloping him as his teeth rattled. He'd thrown up all morning, and she was working through her own headache, her own nausea, to keep him comfortable in her lap as he tried hard to do as she begged him to.

He'd gone to sleep the night before with a fever and as the day went on, Misty worried more and more as it didn't break. He began to talk in his hallucinations, fighting against her hands to get to his hives.

He began to cough, falling in and out of sanity. Around midday, or what felt like midday (she was trying hard to count the hours since the national anthem had played), he looked up at her with dark, dark eyes. His voice was soft.

"How do you think Madison's doing?"

"Her picture hasn't been put up in the sky. She's not dead." Misty replied quietly. He nodded and let his head loll to the side.

It all happened so fast. As she fought against her own shivers and as she scrambled to open windows, vomiting outside, as canons rung outside in succession, he began to shake against the floor. He screamed out, his veins bulging blue and the only thought running through her head was _Zoe. Zoe. Zoe._

She'd read about this and she cursed herself for taking so long to see it, to figure it out. Poisoning. Radiation poisoning. The house was full of it, doses harsh enough that they sped up the death process. No one had stayed. No one but Zoe. And she was gone.

She turned roughly as Kyle let out an inhuman scream, lunging at her, his saliva green and his eyes wild as she tried to fight him off, his strength easily overpowering hers, chemicals running through his bloodstream.

And in a few minutes, if she was lucky, hers.

She scrambled to grasp her ax with trembling fingers, her boots skidding on the floor as he swiped for her legs. She turned and hit him square in the chest as he roared against her, moving but a foot back before attacking again, fingers outstretched.

She closed her eyes and grimaced, her head tilting to the side as her weapon fell into soft flesh, going up through tissue and ligaments and hitting bone. Kyle sighed above her, his mouth open as he breathed out, eyes wide.

He fell to her side and she placed his head in her lap. The gaze he held for her was only half human, one side of him grasping at her throat, still trying to kill her, as the boy in him cried for himself. For her. For them both. He closed his eyes, blood pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his hives, and she tightened her hold on his lightbulbs, her free hand snaking to her own chest as she wept.

He cried out hoarsely, and she shushed him, her hands running through his blonde locks. "Dream, Kyle. And find your truths."

OOOoooOOO

The body'd been taken away, even though she was sure she'd fallen asleep with her arms tight around his chest. She couldn't wonder how, her blood pumping through her chest and fingers and behind her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling, trying hard to breathe. She couldn't. She closed her blue-green eyes, knowing the fate that awaited her was the same as Zoe's, and as Kyle's. Who knew how many else had been killed, standing around the cornucopia for just too long.

She tilted her head to the side as she heard a noise, hoping for a tribute to put her out of her misery as blood ran down in streaks from her nose to the floor, pooling against her neck and in her hair. Whatever had sounded out had stopped and she couldn't help the wretch of a sob escape from between her lips, twin lights staring out at her from behind the window panes. Black and blue.

There it was again, like an angelic laugh. From above her, from besides her. She scratched at her ribs, boils forming there as she looked up at the ceiling again, the hint of a breeze blowing in through the mansion's broken windows. Her blood was congealing in her ears and she could find nothing else to do but turn to stare out at the moon. She grimaced as it was suddenly replaced by a small object, accompanied by that laugh. She couldn't tell if it was mocking her, or soothing her.

A bell.

It, whatever it was, floated down to her side, almost as if guided by her hoarse, unintelligible whispers. It hit her side and her crusted fingers reached for them as her eyesight began to blur, trembling as they closed around the paper attached to the silver canister, the parachute. She snapped it open and found a little see through vial, its end capped off with metal and the inside full of something sickly green, meant to be drunk.

She brought the note close to her, eyes darting over the smooth writing, raised letters on paper that smelled like fir trees, like home. She read the word aloud, tears mixing with the red death in her ears, falling down her cheeks to form tangy, salty trails.

_Survive._

OOOoooOOO

District One. The last tribute, was the girl from District One. She hadn't kept perfect count of all the deaths, but she was sure she hadn't seen the dirty blonde's confident smirk in the sky, scowling down at her with mischief in her hazel eyes.

OOOoooOOO

A canon rung out, and Misty's head whipped up to the night sky. Somewhere, somehow, Madison Montgomery had died.

And she had won.

**Part 3 will be up next week!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Part I**

**Part II**

**Rated M**

**Headcanoned and beta-ed with graceonce**

**Word Count: **

It was dark in the underbelly of the stage, but she didn't mind the darkness, as her eyes had so easily gotten used to the eternal twilight that the arena had been. Far off, Billie Dean Howard's voice was soft, faint even, garbled, and it was already grating on her fragile nerves, and all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and never see the light of day ever again. She lowered herself until her chin was against her knees and tucked herself into her own body, closing her eyes and trying her hardest to keep noises out through her curtain of wild hair.

She felt a tug on her elbows and she raised her head, ready to snap, when she looked straight into mismatched eyes. She breathed out.

"Delia."

The older blonde nodded softly, settling down on her knees in front of Misty, and took the younger girl's hands in hers, resting her cheek on scraped knuckles. "You really shouldn't hit things."

Misty let out a noise that sounded like a whimper and leaned forward to rest her forehead on a sharp collarbone. The president's daughter moved to rest her back on the wall, and taking the hint, Misty crawled closer to cling onto her, her nails digging into ivory skin.

They sat for what seemed like eternity, but it was too short, and Cordelia shifted to whisper in her ear. "Don't ever let them think they've broken you."

Misty nodded as best as she could. The older blonde began to stand, but she tugged her back down. "No, no don't go."

"I have to, mother's waiting for me, and you have to go do the post game interview."

"But-"

"I know, I know it's short but I'll be at your door tonight, okay?" Cordelia tucked a stray strand of hair behind Misty's ear and gave her a broken smile. "You've waited this long to see me again, can you wait a little longer?"

The wild blonde shook her head no and watched as tears sprung to the first daughter's eyes.

"I've missed you, Misty."

The victor swallowed heavily.

Cordelia was about to pull away but she faltered, her mismatched eyes looking deep into Misty's blue-green ones. She took a broken breath and leaned in, her lips brushing with the wild blonde's, hovering, but she pulled away, not daring to go farther.

She squeezed the girl's hands one more time, stood, and turned heel, disappearing into the dark.

OOOoooOOO

"Misty Day, victor of the 86th Hunger Games!"

The blonde was acclaimed with wild applause and she winced as the spotlights turned onto her, blinding her. A smile fought to stay on her face as she waved, even though all she wanted to do was run. A hand landed on her wrist and she pushed the stray thought of _attack_ out of her mind as she let her blue-green eyes rake up the arm and into Billie Dean's face.

"Sit Misty, sit."

She did as she was told, robotic as she gazed over the crowds, up in their seats and hollering her name. Above her, Fiona Goode watched with a critical eye, mismatched eyes shining besides her. Behind the stage, shots of the Games played on the screens, the greatest moments.

"What a _win_." Billie began, tapping her shoulder. "My god, all the moves you pulled out there, I'm sure Madison was glad she didn't have to meet you on the battlefield after all!"

Misty turned to watch her but bit her tongue, keeping her lashes to herself as she began to rub at the skin on the inside of her wrist.

The platinum blonde grinned at the cameras. "Now, we're going to be passing the hightlights reel, from the parade to the first minutes of the game, to your brightest plays. With, of course, your delightful commentaries at the end. This is a moment to celebrate, tell us all you can, I invite you to."

The crowd fell into a hushed, reverent, silence as the tape began, blasted onto three different screens as the lights shut off. Misty found it hard to watch, but found it even harder to tear her gaze away from a smiling David, a bashful Zoe, as they let the black steeds tour them to the president's box.

Shots of the training sessions came next, sessions she hadn't known were taped as she watched herself converse with a slightly hazy Madison, tittering in her boots as Kyle shot arrows behind her. The small smile on the dirty blonde's face made Misty's stomach turn.

There she was again, Madison, darting into the shadows without a look over her shoulder as the canon rung out and the Games began, the countdown disappearing in a million pixels over the tributes. It was there she'd run and Misty saw herself on the same spot merely five seconds later grabbing at Kyle, five seconds too late.

She tuned out with some difficulty, the back of her throat tasting acidic, and only came back when a wail broke out in the room. She whipped her head up and stared as Nan held Luke's mangled body, as a canon rung out above him. He'd been eaten by something with sharp teeth, the both of them sitting in water knee high. A dark shadow slithered past them in the tide, blood coating its scales.

The video fast forwarded almost comically, and the crowd and Misty watched as the body was taken away by the Capitol and as Nan sat in the swamp, looking down at her hands. And though the time on the bottom left of the screen ran and ran and ran, she stayed still, until hunger took over and she fell sideways, the video pausing as the canon clacked above.

Misty turned her face away when Zoe was found and as Bastien was electrocuted and she gritted her teeth as Queenie's screams rung out. She was glad the cameras weren't turned on her, waiting for her reaction, because she'd curled up on herself in the chair besides Billie Dean, the host too enamored with the video to pay attention to her as she bit the side of her wrist and fought off her own screams. Her hands were against her temples, covering her ears as Kyle thrashed on screen, as she killed him, as she received her first parachute.

Madison's death was basic, rudimentary. Sad, almost, and Misty watched despite her heart hammering, wanting to know exactly how the girl had gone. The crowds watched as the dirty blonde advanced silently through deep waters in an abandoned building, her head darting this way and that as she watched her surroundings for the last tribute in her way of winning. Misty couldn't have been sure, but she thought she could see the girl mouth her name rapidly, her chest flushed as she fought off a panic attack that the wild blonde knew she'd been having at the same time. The shadows were too long.

The District One tribute yelped as a cable fell in front of her, sparking, and she stumbled back, tripping and falling into the water, and she struggled to stand. And suddenly, the building broke around her, a beam falling first before the rest of the foundation, hitting her square on the head before the video cut out.

The lights suddenly came back on, and Misty fought off her terror, blinking wildly. Billie Dean turned to face her, the hour and a half of horror seemingly lost on her as she grinned.

"So Misty, you seemed, from your reaction, to know who those life saving parachutes were from. Would you let us in on the secret?"

OOOoooOOO

"Misty."

The wild blonde turned breathlessly at the voice, a strangled gasp caught in the back of her throat as she dropped the hand she'd been biting at to her side. Her fingernails were raw.

The first daughter watched her from where she was, standing in the doorway, her hand around the doorknob. She hesitated as she let her eyes rake over the girl, halfway inside, halfway outside, not exactly sure of what to do. She repeated the victor's name silently, her lips moving and Misty was sure her knees would buckle and she'd fall if someone didn't catch her. With a look of resolution passing in her mismatched eyes, Cordelia closed the door behind herself, back flush against it.

"Mist."

"Y-Yeah."

Cordelia visibly softened as Misty struggled to get her words. "You're talking." She paused, stammering over her own thoughts. "Myrtle said, Myrtle said you'd been a little-"

"-Unresponsive?" Misty laughed lightly, a tone of bitterness in the echoes. Sadness. The president's daughter nodded quickly and walked up to the victor, staring up at her. Even with heels she was shorter than the younger blonde.

"Are you okay? I know the post-game interviews can be...harsh."

Misty titled her head to the side, but didn't answer as Cordelia's fingers came to graze up her arms, her blue-green eyes watching her with a hint of wariness.

Cordelia noticed. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Aren't ya?"

The first daughter breathed out through her nose forcefully. "No. No, I-" She closed her eyes. "I adore you, Misty Day."

"Is that why ya saved me?"

The older blonde's eyes opened and she looked up and up into the victor's face. "You're angry with me."

"Everyone's dead."

Cordelia let her gaze slip away as her arms tightened around Misty's waist. "If you hadn't come back, twenty-four would still have died." She breathed in, trying hard not to stutter. "I thought, I thought I was doing the right thing. Maybe I was just being selfish."

The victor let out a little indescribable noise.

"You'll never forgive me for this, will you."

Misty mulled over her words, her arms limp at her sides. "I, if you'd tried to save me, before the others, ah, died-" She paused at the word. "I would have been angry, then. I wouldn't have forgiven ya." Mismatched eyes peeked up at her as the wild blonde passed a hand through her unruly curls. "But David's gone and Kyle's rottin' somewhere."

"I'm so sorry."

"Ya know, everyone is." Misty said. "But you're the first who's meant it."

Cordelia's forehead landed on her collarbone and her fingernails dug into Misty's supple back. "Please forgive me. I didn't want this to happen."

"The Games happen every year."

"Not that."

"Then what?" Misty bent down to gaze into Cordelia's face, question in her eyes and on her tongue.

The older blonde shook her head, tears in the corners of her eyes. "I love you, Misty Day. And I didn't want this to happen. I let myself get carried away and out of jealousy and hate, I wasn't able to save your friends."

"Delia-"

"Oh god, the nickname." Cordelia laughed bitterly into the girl's skin. "Please don't. I'm one of those souls that deserves Hell, for what's it worth. It wouldn't be enough. I could never explain why I did what I did. I'm just a selfish bitch and I deserve to be thrown to the lions as much as anyone else here. I thought I was different, I guess I'm not."

"Delia."

"God_damn_ it, Misty Day!" The first daughter pushed the victor away. "Why aren't you screaming? Why aren't you throwing things at me or slapping me or shutting me out?" She fell into a chair, her hands in her lap. "I can hate myself for the both of us, but I'd rather you hate me a bit too."

"I don't hate ya."

"Misty."

"I don't. And please stop bein' hysterical. I ain't your ma, I'm not gonna get physical with ya, even if that is what you're used to, even if that is what ya want." The victor looked down at her. "But ya are selfish, if that means anythin'." Cordelia brought her closer by the hem of her shirt and rested her forehead on a taut stomach. "For actin' like this is all your fault. It ain't. Ya did what any other human being would do."

"You'd have done the same thing?"

"No."

Mismatched eyes closed as Cordelia laughed against her.

"Do ya-" Misty paused, biting at her lower lip.

The older blonde gazed up, worry in her features. "What? Do I what?"

"Nevermind."

"Misty."

Blue-green eyes closed and Misty's hands came to rest in Cordelia's hair. "It's all a daze, Delia. I mean, you're here and you're whinin' and somehow _still_ makin' it all about ya and that's almost too real for me. I feel like I'm in a dream and I'll wake up tomorrow and find somethin' stickin' out my chest as I lay dyin'." Cordelia stood, her arms closing around Misty's neck, and the victor pulled her in. "I need ya to hold me. I need to know this is real."

"Okay. Okay." Cordelia nodded against her, and began tugging on her. "Come on."

She led the victor to her bedroom and helped her undress, Misty's fingers useless against her fastenings as she fought to keep herself relatively contained. She watched Cordelia push her hands away and take care of the shirt herself, and watched it flutter to the ground behind them. Her pants went next, and she stood in her underwear, shivering, in front of the first daughter.

She was pushed onto the bed by the older blonde, and she laid back on pillows until Cordelia pulled her down halfway on the mattress, climbing in behind her. She rested her chin on a strong shoulder and wrapped her arms around the victor's waist, pulling her in close to herself, and reached down to grab at the sheets, covering both herself and Misty with them.

She pressed a small kiss to the wild blonde's burning skin, and paused as Misty's hands found hers and tightened her hold on her.

It was a long time before Misty spoke, fatigue in her voice as her eyes closed, serenaded by the woman's heartbeat reverberating through her back and her soft breath against her ear.

"Delia."

"Yeah."

"I love ya too."

OOOoooOOO

"Where is Misty Day?"

"She's resting, mother."

"Why are _you_ in her quarters, anyway?"

The conversation became muffled and Misty found herself rising out of bed and crossing to the door, laying her ear to the cool metal.

"She won without honor." Came the hiss of Fiona's voice.

"Don't blame her." Cordelia snapped back. "Blame the gamemaker that stole Madison from her glorious death. You asked them to end it, and it was his idea to send that building crumbling. _He_ stole you from a good show. Not Misty. Not Madison. _Him_."

"Him who."

"You know who."

"Hank."

Misty could almost hear the relief in the younger blonde's voice. "He's undermining you mother, can't you see? He only wants to marry me to take over once you're gone, run out. He doesn't care about me."

"I have to get rid of him."

Cordelia didn't answer.

OOOoooOOO

"He's gone, Mist."

"What?"

"Hank. He won't bother us anymore." Cordelia kissed her cheek, and Misty suddenly understood.

In some way or another, Hank Foxx wasn't around anymore.

OOOoooOOO

"You need to eat."

Misty glanced up at Cordelia before she pushed her plate away, her head burrowed in her arms as she slumped over the dinner table. "I'm not hungry."

"Misty, it's been almost four days and I swear I've only seen you eat a sandwich ." The older blonde closed her eyes. "I'm tired of hearing that answer from you."

"I don't really care."

"Misty, if you don't eat, mother'll notice."

"And? Who cares if she notices."

"She'll have you physically enhanced for your interviews if she can see your ribs and your hips like I can. I won't have that."

"I just told ya, I'm not hungry. Ya can't force me to eat if I don't feel like it."  
>Cordelia's hands closed around the chair before her, knuckles turning white.<p>

"And if ya don't like seein' my fuckin' bones, then let her enhance me. Like I fuckin' care."

"Misty Day, look at me."

The victor sighed, annoyed, but looked up anyway, fire in her blue-green eyes.

"Enhancement isn't healing." Cordelia said softly. She laid her hand on Misty's gingerly, almost hesitating. "Believe me."

Misty stood abruptly, knocking her chair back, and the president's daughter jumped slightly, blinking rapidly. "Like ya fuckin' know what it's like to be starved out for days on end. I don't fuckin' deserve this life of luxury, not after all this. Not after what happened. Not again." She snarled. She wrenched her hand away from Cordelia's and took a step back, looking like a caged animal. "I'm not hungry. Leave it alone."

"Sit your _goddamned_ ass down, Misty."

The wild blonde's head snapped up, her attention now completely Cordelia's, and she faltered as she paused to listen, but she didn't reach for the chair that'd fallen.

"You listen to me. Enhancements only _make_ you look healthy." The older blonde began, her voice rising. "They put in pads between your ribs and against your spine and behind every single one of your bones but those go away as you keep starving yourself, because that's the only way to make a difference in your voyage to suicide without anyone too close noticing and asking questions, because they can't have that." She rounded the table and pushed Misty back, the flat of her hand against a bony chest. "They feel like extra _shit_ like makeup and dresses and they only throw you back into the operation room once your eyes get sunken again, and they restart the whole process as you wither away. They hide that you're dying. They hide it to themselves. They hide it because the whole country is watching and you should be happy that 'your soulmate lived through the Games and that you're getting married'-" Cordelia suddenly cut off, and she looked away, tears beginning to form in her mismatched eyes.

Misty's voice was accusatory, yet somehow soft. "Why do ya sound like ya know what you're talking about."

"I won't have you die on me, Misty."

The wild blonde narrowed her eyes at her, but said nothing as she grabbed at the chair and righted it angrily, sitting herself down into it. With her eyes locked on Cordelia's, she grabbed at a fork and stabbed it into the plate she'd been given.

OOOoooOOO

Misty watched Cordelia worry her bottom lip, watched her tongue swipe out and lick at the blood that'd collected and broke through the skin, and she tightened her hold on her hand in the bed sheets. "I wish you'd come closer."

"Keep wishing." The first daughter replied quietly, squeezing her fingers back into Misty's. She turned to look the younger girl over, her mismatched eyes pausing at every rib that showed. "You're bruising too easily right now. I don't want to hurt you."

"I've gained weight, Delia."

Cordelia ignored the whine in the victor's voice. "Not enough."

"How long did ya wait before ya let someone touch ya."

The older blonde grimaced and pulled away.

"Ya can't expect me not to ask." Misty said quietly.

Cordelia's mismatched eyes glazed over as she turned her head to look at the ceiling. "I don't know how long I was sick for."

"Ya don't know, or ya don't want to remember?"

The president's daughter didn't answer, and she chose to close her eyes instead. Misty found her hand again and she turned into Cordelia, her body inches away.

Cordelia's jaw was tight. "I watched you throw your lunch away."

Misty sighed heavily and buried herself into her pillow, her grip lessening. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not." The older blonde replied quietly. "I watched you look around to make sure you were alone."

"Apparently I wasn't." Misty said. "Goddamn, you've got eyes everywhere."

"Why would you lie to me?"

Misty closed her eyes as Cordelia opened hers to look at her, waiting for an answer.

"I don't want to hurt ya."

"Lying does that, you know, especially for something as serious as an eating,-" Cordelia trailed off, letting the last, unsaid word hang there. "You can't lie in a relationship."

Misty let out a soft mewl, somehow drifting closer to the older blonde, her hand finding the woman's opposite hip.

Cordelia glanced down at her, her fingers closing around Misty's. "What? What is it?"

"Ya said relationship."

"Oh." The first daughter paused. "Yeah, I did."

"I don't see why."

"What do you mean?"

Misty let go of her and turned around, curling up on herself. "I don't see why." She repeated, harsher this time. "I'm a fuck up."

"Don't."

"It's true. I can't even get rid of this fuckin' disease, or whatever it is, whatever ya want to call it." She curled up farther, her spine arching out, every vertebrae showing. Cordelia winced as she watched them clink against each other.

The older blonde sighed softly. "Misty...It's a process, okay? I can't expect you to shrug it off quickly and easily. You can't expect it to be a breeze either." She let her head hang. "Please don't cry."

"I'm not cryin'."

"You're terrible at lying. And even then, your shoulders are shaking."

"I just,-" Misty paused. "I won the fuckin' Games and I should be livin' like the fuckin' queen of Panem and I can't even do that. All the other winners could but I can't. I won't ever be able to." She turned to gaze at Cordelia, her blue-green eyes swimming in tears. "I can't get their faces out of my head, out of my dreams. I eat and all I taste is ash. All I taste is their blood running through my fingers."

The victor's eyes closed. "My bones could cut glass and ya can't even look at me right anymore. I'm watchin' your face fall as I'm sayin' it and you can't even bring yourself to cut me off. The last time ya touched me, it was before the Games. Ya barely kiss me, and when ya do, you're hesitant. I miss ya."

Cordelia lowered herself down her pillow and placed an open mouthed kiss to the girl's shoulder, tears falling down her own cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm just so afraid of breaking you. You're so fragile."

"Fragile."

"You need to heal, Misty, first and foremost. And I can't bring myself to break that cycle of healing. You need to stop lying to me, you need to let me help you."

"I want to get better."

"Prove it to me, Misty. I beg you. I want you, I need you to be healthy again. Please."

OOOoooOOO

"Delia."

The president's daughter's head snapped up in the dark and she gazed down at Misty. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I don't feel too good."

"What do you mean?"

Misty looked up at her from beneath the covers, blue-green eyes swimming. "I don't feel too good." She repeated, queasy.

"In what way?" Cordelia urged. The victor shook her head, unable to answer as she grimaced deeply.

She suddenly threw the covers off her body and scrambled over the bed, running for the bathroom. The older blonde followed her as best as possible, tripping as she hit the floor, and froze as she heard the girl vomit. She hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights.

"Mist?"

"Oh god."

Cordelia managed to find her way to the bathroom and she flipped the lights on, finding Misty with her head in the bathtub, curled up at the edge.

"I'm so sorry."

"Hey, no." The older blonde shushed her as she took her curls and fixed them into a ponytail with a hair tie she found on the counters. "There's nothing to apologize for." She turned her face away as Misty retched again, coughing.

The wild blonde's voice was hoarse. "I can't keep it down."

"It's alright."

Misty opened her mouth again to speak but she decided against it as she gagged, swallowing heavily seconds later.

"I'll fetch you a glass of water."

Misty grabbed at her blindly, her grip around Cordelia's wrist tight. "Don't go."

"Okay. Okay I won't." The older blonde sat down besides the victor and wrapped her arms around her waist as the other let her forehead fall to the edge of the white bathtub. "Breathe."

"I feel like if I do I'm just gonna hurl again." Misty whispered back. A shiver ran down her back and Cordelia tightened her grip on her. She coughed once, twice, and vomited again, water about the only thing coming out now. Cordelia passed her hand over her back in soothing circles, whispering in her ear.

"Get it out. That's it."

"It tastes horrible."

"I know."

Misty wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned heavily into Cordelia, her blue-green eyes closed. The first daughter pressed a kiss into her unruly curls and rested her chin on her head.

The wild blonde sighed, almost annoyed, and buried back deeper into the older woman. "That was dinner. And lunch."

"It happens, Mist."

"Too often." She paused. "I'll take that glass now. I think I'm done."

Cordelia nodded and stood, pulling Misty up with her. She took her hand and pulled her to the kitchen, sitting her down on one of the barstools, and watched with a small frown as Misty groaned and lolled forward onto the counter, fingers splayed against the marble. She filled up the first mug she found with water and passed it to the wild blonde who stared at it with blurry eyes for a few seconds before picking it up.

She drank from it greedily, not caring that it dribbled down her chin and Cordelia rounded the corner and took a napkin to her mouth, wiping easily. "Better?"

"I guess." Misty found her hand and intertwined their fingers. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Ever." Cordelia tugged on her again and led her to the couch, the victor curling up against her chest when she opened her arms to her. "We'll just stay here, okay? Just breathe and if you feel sick you say so. The sink isn't far."

The wild blonde shook her head against her. "I just don't get it."

"I don't think you're supposed to."

"It's not like I've been eatin' so much there's nothin' else to do but throw it up. Ya watch what I eat."

The first daughter pulled her closer, heart aching.

OOOoooOOO

Cordelia stood behind Misty, her chin hovering above her shoulder as she gazed down at the scale the wild blonde stood on. She smiled lightly and placed a kiss to a bare shoulder, her arms coming around to encircle a strong waist. "That's a good number."

Misty found her eyes in the mirror and she blushed slightly. "Ya think?"

"There's room for improvement, but I like it." Cordelia said softly. "I'm proud of you."

The wild blonde turned in her arms. "Ya mean it?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have said it." The older woman leant up and kissed her lightly on the cheek, by the corner of her lips. She went to pull away but Misty tugged her back in, kissing her deeply, nipping at a plump bottom lip. The first daughter breathed out against her. "Misty-"

"Please. Delia, please."

"I can count your ribs underneath my fingertips."

"I've got more flesh there, ya have to admit it." Misty kissed her again. "Anyway, I can do the same with ya." She bit down Cordelia's neck as her fingers traveled down a thin shirt. "One, two, three-"

"Stop-" The older blonde struggled in her grip, giggling lightly. "I'm ticklish."

Misty grinned at her, her hands returning to Cordelia's neck.

The president's daughter blinked lazily. "This is the first time I've seen you smile in a long, long time, Mist."

"Ya like it?"

"I love it." Cordelia stood up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around the girl's neck. "I'm very, very proud of you."

Misty's own arms wrapped around her waist and she lifted the woman up slightly to kiss her, not answering her. Their embraces deepened and Cordelia wriggled out of the blonde's grip, holding her at arm's length.

Her voice held a tone of warning. "Misty-"

Misty smirked, mimicking the older woman. "Delia."

"I mean it."

"I do too." Misty pulled her in again and bit at an errant earlobe. She let out a little growl and Delia laughed. "I can swear to ya, my hips are barely there. I've eaten so much fuckin' proteins I'm surprised I still float in the bathtub." She paused to grin. "Maybe I should prove it to ya."

"Shameful."

The wild blonde bent down to whisper in her ear. "I really, _really_ want ya."

Cordelia shivered in her arms. "I don't-"

"-Want to hurt ya. I know. I've heard that one before. You won't hurt me. I promise."

The older woman bit at her lip worryingly and Misty bent her knees to look up into Cordelia's mismatched eyes, her hands anchoring in blonde strands. "Are ya gonna trust me?"

"You want me to, don't you."

"It's part of a relationship."

"Using my words against me. Nice." Cordelia teased. She leaned in and kissed her lightly, pausing between breaths to go in for another, deeper one.

"I try." Misty said against her lips, laughing.

OOOoooOOO

"Misty?"

"Oh dear god."

Cordelia turned her head to follow the voice, but didn't have too look far as Misty barreled into her, slamming her back against the door, her ear to the older blonde's chest despite their obvious height difference.

"Misty?"

"I've missed ya."

The first daughter passed her hand through unruly curls. "I missed you too. I'm sorry I had to go, but Fiona couldn't make it and I had to go instead. And District Twelve is far."

"I know. I know." Misty whispered against her.

The older blonde kissed the skin above her ear and Misty moved to stand up tall, towering inches above Cordelia. She raised her hands up to place them on either side of the president's daughter's head and bent down to steal a kiss, her tongue moving languidly against the older woman's.  
>Cordelia let her hands wander over the girl's back, up and under her shirt, fingering protruding bones. "Did you weigh yourself this morning?"<p>

There was a groan. "Delia."

"I want to know."

"No. I didn't."

"And yesterday?"

"I didn't go near that thing all weekend."

"How am I supposed to know if you're doing better? Get in there."

Cordelia pushed the girl back after nipping at her lip. Misty narrowed her eyes at her but moved to the bathroom anyway, grabbing at her sweater and dropping it on the floor, standing in her bra. Cordelia picked the garment up and folded it quickly before throwing it on the marble countertop. "Come on."

Misty's blue-green eyes were hard as the older blonde watched her step onto the scale. She folded her arms across her chest as the numbers flashed up, and she sighed audibly.

Cordelia cocked her head to the side, a small frown on her face. "Did you eat enough while I was gone? You lost almost three pounds while I was away."

"I swear to ya I ate. I guess I just hit a little roadblock. It happens, right?"

Cordelia nodded slowly.

"That's that then." Misty leaned down and kissed her cheek, hand reaching back behind the older blonde to grab at her sweater.

"Yeah."

The wild blonde patted her waist comfortingly and moved past her and into the main area of their appartement. Cordelia followed her out, her mismatched eyes narrowed in on the younger woman. She crossed to the kitchen and easily glanced down into the trashcan, finding nothing there. Her hand found the telephone on the island, and she dialed the cuisine down in the basement of the building.

"Kitchens."

"Pietre, hi."

"Miss Goode. How may I help you?"

Cordelia bit her lower lip as she watched Misty cross from the living room to their bedroom. "This is going to sound silly, but what meals were brought up this weekend?"

He sounded puzzled, but only took a second to answer. "Ah, none at all, Miss Goode. You were out this weekend."

"Thank you."

"You are quite welcome."

She put the receiver down as gently as she could despite the rage coursing through her veins. She padded to the bedroom, arms crossed over her chest, and paused to lean into the doorway, mismatched eyes on the wild blonde as she moved around aimlessly.

"Who were ya callin'?"

"Pietre." Cordelia anwered. "And you'll never guess what he told me."

Misty looked up, wide eyed and alarmed. "Fuck."

"Fuck indeed."

The wild blonde pressed her back to the wall and moved slowly, trying to pass by the woman and into the bathroom. "Ya know, I-"

"You lied to me."

"I wouldn't say _lie_,-" Misty laughed lightly, but there was no joy in her eyes. "Omittin' the truth, maybe."

"You _swore_ to me that you ate, Misty."

"Did I?"

She winced as Cordelia hit the wall forcefully with the palm of her hand. The older blonde paused, cracking her knuckles as she flexed her fingers, and turned on her heel and walked away, back rod straight.

Misty's eyes followed her in disbelief, waiting for something much bigger but receiving nothing but cold silence. She followed her pitifully, head ducked down.

"Delia-"

"I won't have you lie to me, Misty."

"I'm sorry, I just, I didn't feel like it and I swear I ate an energy bar or whatever that shit is called but I couldn't keep it down." The wild blonde tried. "I threw it up everywhere and it was a mess in here."

Cordelia suddenly rounded on her. "What pisses me off is that you could have been honest with me and I wouldn't have been angry. But no, you go and lie. It's called communication. Find a _fucking_ dictionary. _Fuck you_."

Misty paused, her muscles freezing. The older blonde never cursed at her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do, or say. She reached out to lay her hand on Cordlelia's shoulder, but a well placed look from the first daughter stopped her halfway, her fingers in the air.

"You could have told me."

"I'm sorry. I," Misty stopped long enough to close her blue-green eyes. "I didn't want to worry ya."

"Well, you did."

The victor looked away. "There's nothin' I can do, is there."

"The fridge is that way." Cordelia said, still turned away, fingers itching to find something to do. She chewed on her bottom lip. "I've decided on something."

Misty glanced sideways at her, her voice full of shame. "What's that."

"You're not leaving my side anymore."

"Delia-"

"No. You're going everywhere I go now. I'm not leaving you alone anymore." The older blonde insisted. "I'm not losing you, do you hear me? I'm not losing you. Not again."

OOOoooOOO

"Where are ya goin'? Don't go-"

Cordelia paused and turned to place a small kiss on Misty's forehead. "I'll be gone an hour, one little hour, it's not long, don't worry."

"You're gonna leave me here like this? All bloated and shit?"

"It's not like I'm afraid you're gonna go anywhere." The older blonde teased, massaging a tender wrist affectionately. "I told you this is normal."

"Doesn't mean I like it. What if somethin' happens? What if I burst?"

"Burst."

"Yeah. Like a melon."

Cordelia grimaced, but didn't answer.

"Delia."

"It's an important meeting. I have to."

"Ya _can't_ leave me here like this."

"You're not going to explode. It's water retention, I've told you a hundred times. Look it up while you're stuck in bed." Cordelia leant down and kissed her gently. "One hour. I swear."

Misty began whining again, little yelps escaping her mouth as she scrambled to keep the first daughter at her side. She winced as she sat up and fell back on her pillow, defeated, dejected. Cordelia pressed another kiss to her temple, lingering there before she walked away, throwing one last look over her shoulder, a small wave given to the girl.

The wild blonde slumped into the bed, eyes on her swollen wrists and distanded stomach. It hurt, in a residual, stiff way. She could move but it felt awkward to, it didn't feel right. Cordelia'd explained a dozen times that it was her body getting used to eating normally again, her metabolism just doing its job, that swelling was healing, but she didn't like it. For two weeks, her muscles had felt like putty, but now they just felt nonexistent.

Cordelia'd thrown the scale deep into the closet as soon as Misty'd started telltale signs of swelling, unwilling to scare the victor with the sudden and wild weight intakes. And as soon as she'd started her edema, the president's daughter had demanded bed rest from her and stored a large handful of snacks in the nightstands, begging Misty to eat whenever she felt weak. She'd promised it would end. Misty was waiting impatiently.  
>She dozed off easily, her aching muscles lulling her to sleep with each heartbeat.<p>

When she awoke, Cordelia was hovering above her, eyes on her swollen neck, fingers against her ribs.

"Hey."

The older blonde's mismatched eyes ran up to her face and she smiled softly. "Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay." Misty shifted beneath her and raised herself up as Cordelia sat down over her, straddling her waist. "How'd the meetin' go?"

"You really want to know?"

"What's that mean."

Cordelia sighed and ran a hand through the victor's hair. "Fiona wants an interview. A 'three months later' special."

"Oh no. No. Anything but Billie."

"This is, this is kind of an opportunity, Mist. You and I can, you know, come out."

"How is that an opportunity? Your mother hates me."

"If you come out as my, if we say we're in a relationship, she can't touch you anymore." The older blonde urged. "She'd _never_ touch a victor."

"She touched Hank, didn't she."

Cordelia scowled. "Only because he threatened her position. You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"There you go."

Misty sighed and looked away. After a moment, she spoke, mumbling. "I don't really have a choice, do I."

"Not really. Billie was very insistent."

"She would be." The wild blonde paused. "What color was she today."

"Lime green."

"Oh god."

Cordelia laughed and kissed her softly.

"When's this gonna be?"

"We've got two weeks."

"Will I be-?"

"You'll look fine by then, yes."

Misty nodded and leaned up and pecked her lips. She groaned. "I'd go so much farther if I didn't look like a balloon."

"You're a very good looking balloon. I promise you." Cordelia bit at her lip. "We could go a step further, you know."

The wild blonde glanced up. "A step further for what."

"From coming out."

Misty narrowed her eyes. "Explain."

The first daughter took a small breath. "Would you...Misty, will you marry me?"

OOOoooOOO

"You are what?"

Misty watched, wide-eyed, as Billie Dean Howard raised herself up in her seat, mouth open as she stared at her and Cordelia. Besides her, the president's daughter shifted in her seat, the cameras turned on her.

"We, ah, are together. Engaged."

Billie squealed. "I _was_ wondering why you came up on the platform with our victor. This is so exciting!" Misty grimaced.

The colorful blonde winked at Cordelia, at the crowds, the cameras. "If you've just tuned in, Cordelia Goode has just announced her engagement to Misty Day, victor of the 86th Hunger Games." She turned to Cordelia, grinning slyly. "First Hank, now Misty. You must have a thing for victors."

The first daughter's face fell and she moved to stand, knuckles white, but Misty's hand on her wrist stopped her. A quick word in her ear made her pause and she settled back in her chair, but her muscles were still tense.

Billie grasped for something else to say. "It's only been three months since you won and came back from the arena. How were you sure she was, is, the one, Miss Day?"

Misty stared back, but chose not to answer directly as she felt Cordelia's mismatched eyes on her. "How long did ya think I'd need?"

"I, Miss Day?"

"How long, Billie?"

The older blonde laughed lightly, nervously, and she turned to the cameras. "I'm not married, what do I know! A few years? A few dozen?"

The crowd laughed along with her as Cordelia accorded herself an eye roll, hidden behind her hand. "When can we await the happy day then, Miss Goode?"

Cordelia righted herself. "When would you want it to be?" Next to her, Misty stifled a laugh.

Billie's face fell. "I, I don't think I'd have a hand in this."

"Why wouldn't you? Why shouldn't you?" The wild blonde pressed.

The reporter glanced at the cameras and held her hand up, mimicking for them to shut down.

OOOoooOOO

"_Engaged_?" Fiona roared.

"We were going to tell you but-"

The alluring blonde threw her glass at the wall and Cordelia watched it shatter, her mismatched eyes closing moments later. "But _what_, Delia?"

"Billie's pretty forceful."

"No one rang you, missy." Fiona snapped, stabbing a finger at Misty. "I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you." The wild blonde sneered at her, but didn't have anything to add. "I'm going to have to do crowd control."

"For what? I wouldn't expect you to have a mob on your hands." The first daughter scowled.

"You know _nothing_."

OOOoooOOO

"I think your mother took it well."

Cordelia tried to grimace, but she couldn't as she leaned in for a kiss.

OOOoooOOO  
>"Ya can't ask me to do this. Ya can't ask me to face those men and women, friends of the fallen, and smile and wave and tell them their sacrifice was not in vain. Because it fuckin' was." Misty snapped, rounding the table to stare the older blonde down. She pushed the woman back with the palm of her hand. "What do ya think would have happened if I hadn't gotten separated from Madison in the first few minutes? She wouldn't have been hit by that fallin' beam, would she? Nan and Luke wouldn't have died if I'd been there to hunt for them, he wouldn't have been eaten by a fuckin' flyin' fish. Kyle and David wouldn't have-" She paused, her voice breaking. She looked away and took in a deep breath before turning back to Cordelia, eyes blazing. "Ya can't ask me to stand in front of their families and grin and walk away."<p>

Tears sprung to Cordelia's eyes. "I don't want to ask you to, I would never and you know that. Having to tell you this makes my heart ache and I want to throw up and never come out of the dark."

Misty turned away. "Ya knew this would happen. This happened with Hank and ya knew it would happen with me when ya asked me to marry ya."

"It's not common, it's never happened. It was Hank's idea the first time around and mother is taking revenge. I begged her, I swear to you. I begged her not to. I didn't think she would do this, I prayed she wouldn't."

Misty threw her arm out angrily. "A victor's engagement tour. Are ya fuckin' kidding me."

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

The wild blonde glanced back at the first daughter, crying at the edge of their bed, and she sighed through her nose, pulling the woman to her feet and hugging her to her chest tightly. "Don't cry."

Cordelia laughed bitterly through her tears. "This is all my fault. It's all my fault and you put up with my shit."

Misty didn't have an answer, and she tugged the older blonde impossibly closer. Finally, she answered, her mouth by Cordelia's ear. "I'll do it. Ya know I will. But not for her, or for them." Cordelia nodded into her, slipping her hand between their chests to wipe at her nose. "And ya can't, just, just don't expect me to be happy the entire time."

"I don't want you to be if you aren't." The first daughter hiccuped. "I won't be happy either. I wasn't then, the first time. I don't like being paraded. But you, being with you will help. It's just as hard for me, you know, watching these people look up at me and cheer when my mother's just murdered their children." Misty's hands ran up and down her back.

"I guess we both did."

Cordelia breathed out harshly and tried to pull away, her hands on Misty's chest, but the victor didn't let go, instead burying back into blonde locks.

"Don't shut off on me on this tour."

The older woman laughed bitterly, incredulously. "Me?"

"I won't if ya don't."

Cordelia rested her forehead on Misty's collarbone.

OOOoooOOO

"Drink?"

Misty looked up from her book and passed her hand over her eyes as she chucked it onto the coffee table. "God no."

"You know, now that you're doing relatively fine again, I don't mind you drinking."

The wild blonde laughed. "Relatively?"

Cordelia shrugged.

"No, no thanks. I don't think I'll be able to stomach it." Misty buried back into her couch, frowning. "I haven't thrown up in a month, and I'm tryin' to lenghten that record. I don't want to ever taste vomit again."

The first daughter grinned. "Look at you, back to normal, cracking jokes, _and_ off your bouts of alcoholism."

"I wasn't an alcoholic."

The older blonde watched her for a moment, then shrugged. "If you say so, but Myrtle has a few empty bottles to dispute that. I hope you'll forgive me if I help myself."

"Hmm." Misty waved her hand vaguely and Cordelia served herself a double on the rocks, only to fall into the armchair across from her. "Ya look tired."

"You kicked last night."

The wild blonde threw her a wry grin. "So did ya." Cordelia shook her head, fighting a smile. After a moment, Misty patted the space besides her, inviting the president's daughter over.

"There's no space, Mist."

The victor raised an eyebrow and patted her stomach, clicking her tongue.

"Why don't you whistle at me too. That'll work."

"Will it?"

Cordelia reached behind her and threw the pillow she found at Misty, the wild blonde mimicking being shot as the older woman walked over and threw her leg over her, straddling her. "You okay?"

"As okay as I could be."

They both turned to watch the scenery pass by, the Capitol train hurtling through the mountains. Cordelia gave the girl an indescribable noise before stretching herself out and settling against her chest, her fingers finding their way into the victor's curly hair. Misty did the same, wrapping her arms tight around the woman's back.

"We start tomorrow."

"I know." Misty replied softly.

"District One."

"I know."

Cordelia shifted to look up at her fiancée, her chin resting on the girl's chest. "You don't have to talk, you know. I can take care of it. All of it."

"They're goin' to want a few words for this year's runner up. I want to give them that, it's the least I can do."

"This is an engagement tour, not the victory tour, you have no obligations to talk about the Games. Not for a few months."

"I'm the victor. That's all they want."

Cordelia fell quiet as she blinked her mismatched eyes.

"What are ya thinkin' about."

"I'm thinking that whatever you choose to say, will be perfect."

Misty glanced down at her, tearing her gaze away from the passing cliffs. "I'm not that eloquent with words, but I'll do my best, yeah."

The older blonde shook her head slightly. "It'll be perfect." She assured her. She shifted to rest her head fully, tugging on random curls and looking off to the side as Misty hummed aimlessly.

OOOoooOOO

Madison was, had been, a carbon copy of her mother, and Misty found her throat dry as she stared the woman who'd taken a seat in the front row down. There was no sadness in the older blonde's eyes, just fury. Tired fury that most likely matched Misty's own blue-green eyes, that would match Cordelia's if the first daughter noticed the looks exchanged.

The mayor of District One began his speech but Misty tuned it out as her fingers found Cordelia's. She twitched randomly whenever the dirty blonde's name was called, and the first daughter squeezed her hand tighter wordlessly.

"We, as a nation, are proud to announce the engagement of president Fiona Goode's daughter, Cordelia, to the 86th victor of the Hunger Games, Misty Day." The mayor turned and faced the two blondes expectantly and Cordelia moved to stand, but Misty stopped her. She fixed her suit lapels and walked to the microphone.

OOOoooOOO

"We knew each other for less than three weeks. But he became my friend in there. My best friend. I just," Misty paused, her fingers playing with the necklace around her throat. "This is for him." She fiddled a little longer, and the lightbulbs on her chest came to life, slightly tattered and a little dim.

The District Three crowds fell into a hushed, reverent silence as they watched her hold them up inches from her chest, offering them and the Capitol cameras a good view. She knew that behind her, Cordelia was smiling softly.

A light came on, far off in the crowd, a young man holding his tablet up to the skies, the screen turned up to its highest luminosity setting. A girl by his side did the same. It fell over in a wave and the district caught fire.

OOOoooOOO

"I've, uh, I've been keepin' these. Myrtle gave them back to me after I won, she was able to rescue them." Misty started, unable to look up into the woman's eyes. "I, I'm a pretty selfish person. I almost kept them, I almost left them at, in the capitol. But they belong to you. Not me." She dropped the boots onto the table, watching the shoelaces fall onto the wooden surface. "Not me."

"Miss Day-"

"Please don't. It's Misty. It's always been Misty." The wild blonde shook her head. "I don't deserve your respect." She turned her head away.

"You brought me back my boy's shoes. You deserve it all."

Misty glanced up at the shorter woman, noticing she'd picked up the boots and that tears were streaming down her face.

"This was his favorite pair. He begged me to wear them to the reapin'." She laughed lightly. "He looked so dapper in them, he was so proud. His friends came to pick him up and they were proud too, they pulled in and bought them for his birthday, ya know?"

"I know. He told me."

The black woman sighed heavily. "Thank ya." She shook her head. "For protectin' him as best as ya could. His death is not on your hands, do ya understand me?" Misty began to speak, but she cut her off. "Do ya understand me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Misty breathed out, her shoulders slumping. "I do."

"But ya don't believe me."

The wild blonde shook her head, curls flying. "It's hard to."

She was pulled into a sudden hug and she easily fell into it, embracing the shorter woman with all she had.

"You're always welcome here, Misty Day."

OOOoooOOO

Cordelia's fingers were tight in Misty's hair, but the wild blonde's grip on her hips was even tighter as the victor pushed the older woman into their train's bedroom door, their mouths meeting sloppily as Misty urged her shirt up and over her head.

"I hate this." She managed to say as Cordelia moaned in her ear. "I hate all of this." She bit down the first daughter's neck, earning gasps as she left angry red marks. "And I need ya."

Cordelia's voice was hoarse as Misty grinded her hips into her. "You need me." She echoed.

"So goddamn bad." The wild blonde didn't wait for an answer as she tugged on the older woman's belt, undoing the clasp and pulling her pants down mid-thigh. Her free hand settled in between the woman's legs and she looked up into mismatched eyes. Cordelia managed to give her a lopsided smile before reaching down and kissing her again.

"I like it when you need me."

"It's not for all the right reasons." Misty growled, pushing the palm of her hand into the woman's clit.

"With you it is." Cordelia hitched out, knees buckling lightly. The wild blonde groaned into her neck before her forehead fell against the other's shoulder and as she began moving her fingers purposefully. Cordelia's fingers dug into her forearms and she welcomed the pain.

OOOoooOOO

"We should get a snake."

"A snake." Cordelia echoed, glancing down at the girl who'd sprawled against her. "Why would we get a snake?"

Misty looked up at Cordelia, her head in the older blonde's lap. "It could be an 'end of engagement tour' present. We could bring it on interview days, scare the shit outta Billie. And I'm sure your ma wouldn't come around so often if it was slitherin' around. We could name it Red Baron."

"Would you like a new room for it too? Something like an inside garden?"

"You're teasin' me."

Cordelia grinned as she leaned down and kissed her fiancée lightly. "Anything else you want?"

"I have half a mind to get some fangs done."

"Oh please."

**The End**


End file.
